Invictus
by ljv
Summary: Alternate Universe. For the getting of a kingdom. Vegeta adopts and trains Videl. The struggle between two lovers who were trained to be greater than men. GhXVi. Minimal VegXBul. Extended and twisted plot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**

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**Chapter 1**

**ljv**

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_In this world, where the game is played with loaded dice, a man must have the temper of iron, with armor proof to the blows of fate, and weapons to make his way against men. Life is one long battle; we have to fight at every step; and Voltaire very rightly says that if we succeed, it is at the point of the sword, and that we die with the weapon in our hand._

_-Arthur Schopenhauer, 1851_

_*****_

This desert stretched before him in unbearable silence. He could not think why he came here. Or at the very least, he did not allow himself to consider of his reasons. Whatever they were, he always came.

The horizon was beginning to lighten. The line that separated earth from sky was beginning to turn into a blazing red. As if a cut was widening at the end of the world, like blood gushing through a broken artery. The bleeding seemed uncontrollable. The shining heat touched his face and stung at his eyes. He turned his head away willing himself to forget.

The color of the sky felt too much like home. That alone was one torture too many, but the memories came rushing back anyway. He gazed at the bleeding red of distant and unreachable horizon through the corner of his eye; the only time when the blue skies of earth ever came to close to resembling the pulsing skies of his Vegetasi.

Vegeta studied the endless sands stretched, as it seemed, for an eternity before him, which ran into the blazing fire of the sun and to an eternity behind him, which faded away into the darkness of the disappearing night. His body alone seemed stuck in time; trapped in a limbo that offered no boundaries or no direction. The light of the rising sun was turning the appearance of the yellow grains of sand into matter that resembled gleaming rubies. He reached down to let the fine grains of sand slip through his fingers. He closed his eyes, remembering pleasure that would only give him pain.

He was born to rule the most powerful species in the universe. By right of birth he should have ruled galaxies; so much power never to be his. He was nothing more than a remnant of a dying race; nothing more that a speck of sand surrounded by infinity.

Vegeta opened his eyes only to have to immediately close them again. The sun has emerged from the horizon. It was an orange disk floating upon the bleeding artery like a scalpel, either waiting to damage the artery further or to heal it. Vegeta clenched his fist feeling an overwhelming, irrational desire to destroy it.

He breathed in deeply through his nostrils, breathing the fire into his chest. Taking one more disgusted look at the horizon, he shot off into the sky.

The gravity machine was broken again. The blue-haired harpy was fixing it. He would have stayed and watched her, waited, and demanded her promptness, but as of late something about her was beginning to disturb him. Something about the blue haired onna attracted him in such a way he felt that he must stay away. Vegeta did not understand it nor did he wish to. Some emotions were foolish, while others simply bothersome. It was useless to dwell on such things and dangerous to be caught up within them.

His own actions and emotions confused him, bothered him in such a way he did not know how to confront them. He made to distract himself instead. As of late, when the gravity machine was broken, he had taken up exploring the planet. Really, it was more or less his last resort. Inactivity was maddening and more than enough incentive to tear the planet and its people to shreds.

He _had_ tried training with Kakarott's brat. While the boy was his enemy's son, Vegeta could not deny the brat's strength. He was astounded by the hybrid brat's power. In truth, his curiosity was the only reason he bothered. Never had he heard of a child being so powerful as such a young age. Vegeta wondered briefly if it was anything to do with the human blood that ran through his veins combined with the Saiyan blood that made him so powerful. The thought was disgraceful, but Vegeta could not understand it – could think of no other explanation. Humans were weak; pathetically so. Saiyans were strong, but not that strong. The brat was something else entirely and Vegeta was not sure if he liked it.

Before he could test the brat's power, the loud-mouthed harpy drove him away. The child was being held back. If it were not for the fact that the child was a disgraceful half-breed, he would have taken the child from his mother to train him properly, make him worthy of a Saiyan title. Half-breeds were killed upon discovery on Vegetasi. But this was Earth. And Saiyans were dying out. Even Vegeta realized that. So he moved on, not challenging Kakarrot's woman's verdict.

Vegeta tried training with the Namakian next. The experience was disturbing and he vowed never to do it again. He did not even allow himself to consider training the other fools that considered themselves protectors of the mud-ball, Earth.

Even though Vegeta was not entirely sure of the planet's geography, he knew well enough that he was nearly on the other side of the world now. He had been flying for less than thirty minutes and the change was very apparent. It was dark here and strangely more alive than the light of desert. Silver streaks of water upon the earth's surface shined like platinum in the half-mooned sky's light. They cut across the face of the earth like veins liquid silver.

He flew closer to the ground, slowing his speed down, enjoying the dark, breathing in the cool sweetness of the air.

He saw the halo of it first, a city humming in the distance. Normally he avoided cities. He was about to keep flying but something stopped him. Something called him. A knot in his back, a tightening of his stomach, a pull upon his chest. He could not describe it. He would have ignored this, but his entire life he had lived on his instinct. He had learned to trust it. He glanced upon the city light with distaste. Despite the darkness that surrounded it, it pulsed and hummed like a melody that was looking for a beat.

He continued to fly until he was floating above the city, well out of range of the air traffic. He watched it move, feeling its pulse affect his own. He wanted to fly away, but it seemed as if an anchor of energy was pulling him in. So strong was this pull he floated closer to the city until his feet touched upon the concrete of its streets.

He stood still, not entirely sure what to do next, unfamiliar with his own actions. He took a step, and then another, until he was walking at smooth pace, blending into the millions of steps and heartbeats of the city.

His entire body felt strangely tense as if preparing for some kind of battle. Every nerve in his body was on end. It felt as if he was on the edge of panic, but he could think of no reason why. He walked and walked, finding the nervous energy within him eased by the movement.

Everything around him pulsed. He was assaulted by the stench of rotted foods, sweat, and of excess smog in the air. He was surrounded by noise and movement. He could see things that disgusted him; he could see things that fascinated him.

He kept walking.

He walked. He searched even though he did not know what he was looking for. He could hardly call this searching, but he could think of no other word for it. All he would admit to himself was simply that he was walking. Being drawn in, by something, or nothing – it did not really matter.

For miles it was like this. He looked through the part of the city that was nothing but lights and followed his feet. He walked and walked. He walked from the light to only follow his feet into the darkness. The noise died here, but that beat still hummed in the background like a steady heart. Tall buildings rose up awkwardly around him. A silence held the air as if it were screaming. As his feet padded silently upon the cracked asphalt, Vegeta could not help but be reminded of space and the silence that went on forever.

Then came a rip to the artery of heartbeats. The sound was slight, but sudden and obnoxious enough for Vegeta to turn his head. He stopped walking and listened. He was met with silence.

Disappointed, and not really sure completely why, the strange pull on his chest becoming more apparent, he kept walking. Then he heard it again. Vegeta smirked.

Footfalls.

Vegeta moved swiftly, silently toward the sound, first running and then flying.

He could hear it clearly now. Footfalls. There were at least five different sets of feet. He listened closer; several humans running.

He was getting closer. The footfalls were becoming louder. He felt his heart beat along with it, and his nervous energy gave way into a kind of excitement the filled every part of his body. Then suddenly, the sound just stopped. He paused, his stomach clenching with the return of dread. He floated silently sniffing the air only to be bombarded with an overwhelming smell of rot.

He tensed his shoulders, feeling frustrated and foolish. The silence wrapped around him, pushing against him, weighing down upon his shoulders.

A low note stung the air, breaking the silence and its hold on him. A mumble of voices began to vibrate through the crumbling walls. Vegeta quickly, silently followed the sound.

As, he rounded the corner of a long and narrow alleyway, he found the sounds he had been following. It took him all but a moment to identify the seen he was witnessing. Several boys surrounded a much smaller boy. The smaller boy held in his hands a shiny object that looked too expensive for the grimy hands that held it. The four boys surrounding the smaller one were leering.

"Give it to us, runt. We don't want to hurt you… much."

Vegeta moved closer to get a better view, moving silently to the top of a building that stood silently by the alleyway. He was fascinated and perhaps even a little astonished, almost pleased. He did not know that humans had it in them.

The boy's small hands tightened upon the object he was holding as he took another step back cornering himself against a wall. The other boys laughed, stepping closer to the smaller child.

Vegeta stood silently. He watched the small boy's face carefully, preparing himself to feel disgust, expecting fear from the child's face. He waited to see the weakness, absolute cowardice - he waited to see a human just as he knew them to be - pitiful.

What he saw inspired no disgust.

There was no fear but only rueful distain on the child's face, like a slave defying his master. The boy's head was bent slightly forward as if in mock prayer. The dark mess of hair upon his head was caked with mud. His small face was covered with dirt and his clothes were tattered and worn. Yet, the beggar child held his body stiffly as if he would not bend. Then he tilted his chin upwards arrogantly. As the boy did this, the full effect of his eyes was unleashed. Bright clear blue eyes that did not seem to belong on such a dirty face.

The other boys chuckled at this show of pride. "Stubborn little runt, aren't you? Just give it here." The leader held out his hand, indicating to the object being held by the small boy. "We promise not to hurt you _too_ much."

The small boy grimaced. It took Vegeta a moment to realize that the grimace on the child's face was his smile. The group surrounding him failed to see it as that and moved in closer misinterpreting the smaller boy's expression as fear.

The one that seemed to be the leader chuckled. "Where are your manners, boy?" The leader tilted his head back to speak to the others. His voice was dark and leering. "Stubborn and rude too. We are going to have to teach _it_ some manners."

The other boys chuckled as they moved in closer. The small boy did not move, did not give to the advancement of the bigger boys around him.

Vegeta knew looking at the small boy that he did not stand a chance at defeating the four larger older boys. The child's ki was far lower than even the weakest boy that surrounded him. Vegeta was confident in his assumption that the group of boys would kill the smaller one with minimal effort. However, that strange grimace remained on the boy's face. The prince watched the child closely, unsure what to think about the boy who could have extended his pathetic life a little more by simply running away. A glint sparked in the boy's bright blue eyes. The ice blue that looked like fire.

They attacked at once, each boy going for a separate limb. Each boy missed their target. The small child was quicker than Vegeta imagined, though, still pathetically slow. He watched as the small boy took on and defeated each opponent, taking hits that should have leveled him, giving hits that he should not have been capable of delivering. He watched the poor technique and the boy's struggle. Vegeta stood still watching one body after another fall until all that was left was the small boy with the bright blue eyes.

Vegeta sensed out the child's power level. He frowned. It was unimpressive; weak. Yet, the boy stood triumphant over the unconscious bodies around him. Blood was running freely through his nose and from a newly acquired gash upon his forehead, his chest heaving from exertion against a thin t-shirt. His knuckles were raw and even through the dirt that covered his skin, the pink was becoming evident. Despite the darkness, bruises were already forming on the boy's body. Vegeta could not help but appreciate the sight.

Vegeta stepped forward, preparing to fly off into the skies once more. However, the boy, his senses buzzing from the fight, tensed as a predator would before attacking its prey. His bright blue eyes shooting upwards to where Vegeta observed the fight. The prince froze, meeting the gaze calmly despite his shock. He was not expecting the boy to see him. Yet as he held the child's unyielding gaze, he was glad that boy had looked.

The defiance in the boy's bright blue eyes was enjoyable. He enjoyed seeing the cool confidence and the stubborn line of the child's lip. He even appreciated the boy's indifference to the blood running from his nose and staining further the front of his already dirty shirt.

The child watched the prince unblinkingly. Vegeta watched the child with the same calm intensity. Finally, he growled. He was tired of this silly staring contest.

"Brat!" He barked.

The boy's expression did not change. He tilted his chin higher at Vegeta's voice.

Vegeta smirked, familiar with this kind of arrogance for it was very much like his own.

He floated down from the roof he had stood upon. He felt a streak of satisfaction as the boy's blue eyes widened in surprise only to narrow in suspicion. His body however, though still tensed as if to fight, remained open and unafraid.

As Vegeta landed less than four feet from the boy, he was overcome at just how small the child was. The boy did not seem to mind the obvious size difference between them. He stood just as stiffly as before, just as angrily.

"Boy, how old are you?"

The child's forehead furrowed. He did not answer.

Vegeta growled in annoyance.

"Do you speak, boy?"

The child furrowed his forehead further and then gave a reluctant stiff nod of his head.

"Then you can answer my question." He paused letting the words sink in. "How old are you, brat?"

The boy shook his head. His small hands tightened on what appeared to be a very expensive bracelet. The blue of his eyes hardened so they almost looked purple.

He took a step closer to the boy making the proximity more uncomfortable. The child shifted but did not yield to Vegeta's steps. The prince was just as pleased as he was angry at the boy's defiance.

Vegeta spoke once more. "Do you have a family?"

The boy gave Vegeta an angry guarded look before shaking his head once.

Vegeta considered this carefully, his cold gaze never leaving the intense blue one.

"Have you been trained?"

The boy's anger hardened the lines of his face as he shook his head once more declaring that he had not.

Faster than the boy could comprehend, Vegeta grabbed the back of the boy's neck and took off into the sky.

The child squirmed in surprise and in pain from the grip Vegeta had on the back of his neck, but did not comment and did not fight. The boy did not make a sound and other than his initial squirming did not move. The prince could feel the quick pulses of the boy's young heart beating rapidly against his fingertips.

He kept flying until he came to the desert he had abandoned just hours before. He landed, immediately releasing the boy roughly. The child stumbled and fell onto the scorching heat of the sand. The boy was disorientated and pale. The prince wrinkled his nose as he smelt the beginnings of nausea take hold of the boy's body.

The boy puked upon the yellow sand. Vegeta waited with silent disgust. As soon as the boy was done his eyes flew up to the Sayian's angrily.

The spite in the boy's eyes was satisfying. "Boy, if you can survive here by yourself for one month, you will be my student. I will train you into what you should be."

The child stood up on shaky legs. Vegeta noted the pale skin and thought of the child's impending burns from the sun and the sand with a small amount of amusement.

The boy spit blood upon the sand. His body, caked with mud and blood, blended easily into the sand surrounding his small form. The blues eyes glinted like sapphires.

The child tilted his head mockingly so that he could look into Vegeta's eyes. A high raspy voice that sounded very out of practiced came from his mouth, his words an angry refusal. "And what should I be?"

Vegeta smirked into the child's angry eyes, pleased to have defeated him into talking. The prince let out a low curt laugh before shooting off into the skies in a cloud of sand and rock, covering the boy with debris.

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_A/N: So this is more or less my first DBZ fic. So you know, tell me what you think? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**

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**Chapter 2**

**ljv**

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_"The hardest battle you're ever going to fight is the battle to be just you."_

_-Leo F. Buscaglia_

***

It was not, he supposed, entirely his fault. He would not take all the blame.

At the very least, it was the time. It was about this time of year that the full moon would be rising on his home planet. He knew the lunar cycles well. His body knew it far better than his mind did. The familiar ache in his bones and the restless energy infused within his body. Thousands of years of evolution were difficult suppress even when the planet was missing, his body still ached and yearned for it. The earth should be thankful that it did not have a moon. He was capable of more damage in the moment than he cared to admit to himself.

Normally on a night like this he would train like all the times before. He could repress it. But the machine was still broken. All he could do was lie awake, restless and angry. That was how he ended up walking the halls of Capsule Corp. in the dead of night. This how he first smelt her; or at least smelt her scent like this. The scent of her froze him; leaving him transfixed in a lustful, shocked stupor. Vegeta hesitated for a second too long. Before he could control his body to turn the other way, she rounded the corner.

The blue haired harpy was about to come into heat. Her scent was almost too much alone. She had been working in that damn lab all day and sweat had formed on her brow. Vegeta could see the sweat stains in her shirt that had already formed hours before. It was not that she had not smelt good before it was just as if somehow her scent was condensed; making it more potent and dangerous than Vegeta had ever dared to imagine. The new sweat mixed in with the old; it was bitter and it was sweet; it was, simply, irresistible.

It would have been for the best to keep his distance; let alone his silence. Not to ignite her anger, or spark the fire his body demanded. It would have been wiser. As it were, that temptation was one too many. It was her anger at his insults. The way she defended her ability to fix the gravity machine, how she blamed him for completely destroying it. The way her chest heaved against her dirty tee shirt, the way blood caked the tips of her fingertips, the way her round mouth twisted and her eyes narrowed in anger, it was the shiny sweat upon her brow… Vegeta could not be blamed.

* * *

***

The brat was still alive.

_'Barely.' _

Vegeta watched the child struggle. It was, it its own way therapeutic. Vegeta understood cruelty and what he was doing to the young child was very close to but he refused to think of it such. This was training. Vegeta refused to train anyone who was not tough enough to stand it. Whatever the cruelty of the desert had to offer was nothing compared to what he expected.

Vegeta should have been training himself. This was a fact he considered as his face twisted in distaste. He could not understand what was taking the blue-haired harpy so long to fix the damn machine. She was supposed to be a genius. He was beginning to doubt such a title. That was his anger's logic and he knew it. What really was keeping him away from training was nothing he wanted to admit to himself.

And after their… 'encounter', he refused to hang around Capsule Corp. more than what was necessary. Mainly because whenever he was even remotely near to her, he could not stay away.

It was not an addiction exactly, but it was close. Close enough and personal enough to render him as helpless as he had ever felt before in his life. It was a strange type of battle he had engaged himself in with this woman. It had nothing to do with martial arts, the strength of her kick, or the technique of her punch. It was something subtler and more dangerous than he had ever encountered. It was a battle that seemed to be defined by temptation. A battle that was the predator to his lust. He could not help but feel that he was nothing more than helpless prey presented to a fantastic predator. A predator with deep blue eyes and long blue hair.

Vegeta scowled up into the blue skies being reminded more strongly than what was comforting.

He focused again on the child.

The child was more than struggling. The child was moving to the east. On foot he had covered more than fifty miles. Vegeta did a quick estimate. Another ten and the child would reach an oasis.

Vegeta was impressed that the child was not only moving but also moving in the direction of water and food. It was almost as if the child knew where to go. Though Vegeta could not think of any reason why the boy would. He left this to chance. The boy was a good guesser, that or extremely lucky. Vegeta did not know which did not care enough to think of it extensively.

Vegeta did a quick check of the boy's ki. It was low much like before. Far lower than the average human, but this child kept moving. By all estimates, by the best of Vegeta's knowledge, the child's ki should have died out long ago. That was what Vegeta was waiting for. As soon as the boy's ki lowered past the point of what was enough to keep him alive, Vegeta planned on intervening and taking the boy away from the desert to train him.

The boy's ki had lowered long ago past the point at which a normal human would be conscious let alone walking. The child kept moving with such speed that to Vegeta's knowledge should not be 'humanly' possible.

This was something of an enigma. It was a mystery that was becoming more and more prominent the more Vegeta observed the child. It was prominent from the first moment Vegeta met the boy, it was only just becoming apparent to him now. The boy was able to defeat four other boys with greater ki's. While strength had not always made the better fighter, Vegeta knew enough that it was a huge advantage, particularly when it was four against one. Even now as the child wandered through the vast desert, his ki was low enough he should have been lying upon the sandy dunes barely breathing.

Vegeta furrowed his brow. He would have to investigate this further, but now he had to make sure the child did not completely kill himself. He continued to watch the struggle.

There was a prominent burn as the boy's neck and arms. The nose and cheeks looked raw and well as the legs. He could see the small chest gasp for air. He watched those bright blue eyes water. He noted with fascination that they did not look any less fierce. It was still as if the blue eyes were burning. Vegeta imagined for a moment just how horrible it would be if they burned out. Vegeta knew that he would do everything he could to do just that. Tame the fire in the boy's bright blue eyes. He suspected and hoped that he might fail. It had been a great while since he had seen that type of anger and cruelty in any being. The child had enough anger in him to keep the world on its knees. The child's defiance was the only reason Vegeta ever considered breaking him.

* * *

***

Her scent was infuriating.

"The machine is finished."

He turned his head slowly to look at her frail figure in the doorway. She stood drenched in her own sweat and darkened by grease. Her mouth was drawn into a thin line as she looked hatefully into Vegeta's eyes. He appraised the thin waif-like line of her body before looking away from her and back out the window. He let out a low grunt.

This response, or as Vegeta thought of it, lack of, set her into a rage; a delicious, infuriating, dangerous rage.

"You unimaginable prick! Do you have any idea how difficult it was to repair that thing!"

He did not need to turn around to know that she had stepped further into the room. Her scent was more dominating; teasing at his senses – alluring and taunting; completely surrendering control that was so weak before.

Vegeta growled in mixture of frustration and lust. He still did not trust himself to look at her. He held onto the hope that maybe he could resist. He told himself he could. Vegeta was never much of a liar. "Woman, you are playing with fire."

Bulma did not seem to hear Vegeta's comment. "You are a useless piece of space trash! You have no respect. Do you have any idea what I do for you? I don't have to let you stay here! I could just kick you out! You fucking bastard!"

She kept moving closer and closer to him. Vegeta tensed his shoulders and clenched his fists as if somehow this would hold his body in place, as if it would stop him from turning around and taking her like he had like every time before.

"Look at me when I am talking to you!"

Vegeta still had his back turned to her. Vegeta was still trying his hardest to resist.

She was moving closer still.

Vegeta growled out. "Woman, don't come any closer to me."

"I will do whatever I want! How dare you?"

Vegeta could see her reflection in the glass of the window he was looking out. He could see her raise her fist to hit his back.

It was later that Vegeta convinced himself it was instinct really. True, she could have never hurt him with a punch. But it was his instinct to defend himself. To grab her wrist in order to prevent contact. He could hardly be blamed for taking her into his arms. It was, after all, only instinct.

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***

It was not as if Vegeta had forgotten about the blue eyed brat he had left in the desert. It was just that another blue-eyed brat had taken over his mind. The purple haired freak that was by all estimations a super saiyan. A super saiyan that came with a grim story of the future. If there was ever a time to train, it now more than ever. Vegeta was never one to back down from such a challenge.

* * *

***

All in all; everything felt slightly ridiculous. From the beginning to the end – or rather from where it started to how is it was now. First the androids, then Cell, then dead Kakarrot, and now a world that was physically healing from the damage and psychologically scarred from it as well.

Vegeta felt the only thing he had ever felt after battle. It was not joy or regret, but a kind of emptiness that was like holding a breath and then letting it go. It was not exactly relief, but it was a kind of emptiness that was comforting; the kind of emptiness where he did not feel like doing anything. He knew this would not last. Such emotions never did.

If anything, Vegeta was afraid for the moment when he had to breath in again. Like a body could only go so long without oxygen, he could only go so long without having the fighting instinct within him. When everything about him was inexplicably tied to flighting, he knew when it came back everything would hurt. He knew that when he had to breathe again, he would have to remember what it was like to watch his son die. The confrontation with his feelings was something he had always been able to repress; he did not have the same confidence this time. His young son, still a baby, and Vegeta knew in that moment he would never want to watch that again. He could not bare the idea of Trunks being killed. It was perhaps one of the most powerful convictions Vegeta had ever felt and it hurt like hell.

There was more to confront; more things Vegeta did not want to deal with. He would have to remember the terror of watching a child let the weight of an entire world fall upon his shoulders. Gohan fought well; but he should have never had to. A child should never have that kind of responsibility placed on their shoulders. That is what Gohan was; nothing more than a child. It was a painful responsibility on Vegeta's part to recognize that Gohan was a warrior; painful because Vegeta knew the exact pain Gohan would have to face. Vegeta would never admit this to anybody, but what he felt was a deep sense of pity for Kakarrot's son. The life of a warrior was not a curse he would wish upon anybody.

If Vegeta could have defeated Cell in Gohan's place, he would have. Yet as all things, the past was the past and in that moment he did not have enough energy in his body to even have the desire to change it. Perhaps one day he would. Perhaps one day he would wish to revisit the past, but now he wished to hide from the onslaught of emotions that would, without doubt, soon find him.

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***

For once he was not training. But sitting in the center of the gravity room's expansive size focusing on thinking of nothing.

He noticed the door opening and felt the gravity of the room turn off. He was angry at whoever decided to bother him. Not angry enough; not angry like he usually was. Even his words did not seem completely felt. He did not even bother to open his eyes to look at the person who disturbed him.

"Get the hell out of here."

There was a slight pause at the doorway and then a quiet indifference. Vegeta felt for the ki of the intruder and felt his stomach twist. It was Chichi. He opened his eyes angrily. Vegeta was sure that in the moment he was more afraid of her than she was of him.

Her footsteps were light and her voice was quiet yet their was an undertone that was violent; that seemed to scream misery. It was far more violent and disturbing than the harshest of Vegeta's words. "Bulma told me you have been in here for the past two days."

"Did you not hear me, woman? Get the hell out of here."

Chichi seemed unaffected by his words. She continued to walk at an even pace toward where Vegeta sat in the center of the room. She stopped less than five feet away from him.

He locked his dark eyes upon hers. "What the hell do you want?"

A small painful twitch of her lips suggested she was about to smile. The expression never really completed itself on her face. "How long has it been since you have gone outside, Vegeta?"

Vegeta growled. "If you came here for small talk, I suggest you leave now. I do not have the patience."

The normal Chichi would have yelled at him for his insolence. Instead she answered smoothly with the same half smile, half grimace on her face. "I did not come here for small talk, Vegeta. I came to ask you a favor."

Vegeta noted the dark circles under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. "When was the last time you slept, woman?"

Chichi waved her hand flimsily. "All small talk."

Vegeta stood. "If you don't sleep woman, the child inside of you might not make it."

Chichi's eyes widened at Vegeta's observation. Her mouth twisted painfully. "You noticed?"

Vegeta snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest. "If I couldn't sense your baby's ki, then I could definitely smell it. Pregnancy changes a woman's scent."

Chichi bit her lip and turned her head away from Vegeta. He thought for a moment that she was going to cry. He was relieved when she turned her head back to Vegeta after a moment with a completely dry face.

"I need you to speak with Gohan."

Vegeta did not say anything for a moment. Chichi watched his expression dully; afraid and indifferent at the same time.

"You know," Vegeta started slowly, adopting a tone to his voice he rarely used, "things will be hard for a while. I cannot promise they will get any easier anytime soon."

Chichi's expression was twisted as she fought back pain that pushing to get out.

Vegeta kept talking anyway. "When everything is over, I don't know how long it will take, you will be thankful it happened. Because without it you would have never known how strong you could be."

A yelp escaped Chichi's mouth.

Vegeta watched her with hard eyes. "The path you son has chosen will not be easy. It won't be fair. But it is his path. He will protect the earth."

Chichi was suddenly glaring at Vegeta. "You think I don't know that! I never wanted this type of life for Gohan for that very reason! Now there is nothing I can do about it. You are the only other person on this planet that can come close to even rivaling my twelve year old son in power! He is only twelve! Twelve years old! He should never have had that kind of responsibility! Ever! And you are telling me that it is not fair. Damn you, Vegeta!"

Vegeta watched Chichi's outburst blankly. Inside her words were painful. They hurt him on a level that was too personal to confront. Vegeta spoke slowly. "Gohan is more than a child now. He.."

"Like hell he is!" Chichi interrupted furiously. "He is my son. He is my baby! He is not old enough to handle this type of responsibility."

Vegeta looked to the ceiling and then into Chichi's eyes. "If he was not capable enough to handle being the most powerful being on this planet and possibly in the universe then we would all be dead."

Whatever Chichi was about to say was caught in her throat. She closed her mouth and breathed in deeply through her nostrils. She lowered her eyes to the ground as if she was trying to gain control of her emotions. Finally she looked into Vegeta's eyes. He noticed the plea behind them.

"Can't you do it? Can't you protect the earth? Let Gohan grow up like a normal child?"

There was a hope in her eyes that Vegeta felt afraid of. He did not want to destroy it, but he knew he had no choice. "No. I can't."

The fire burned out only to be replaced with that black sheen he had seen when she first entered the gravity chamber.

The desperation was back. "Why?"

Vegeta turned his head away from Chichi's piercing gaze. "This planet was never mine to protect."

This comment enraged Chichi. "Your wife and child live here! Is that not incentive enough?"

Vegeta's mouth twisted knowing full well he was about to lie. He could not bring himself to tell Chichi that he would protect Earth with everything he had. He could not bring himself to admit that he would never have enough power to do so. Vegeta could never have the right amount of power to protect the planet as it should be protected. That Gohan always would. "No."

Chichi was shaking. "You're heartless bastard."

"That is why," he stated solidly, "I cannot be given the title of protector of this planet."

"So you will sacrifice my son to save your sorry ass!"

Vegeta closed his eyes. "I think you should leave now."

Though he felt her spike in ki and could sense her fist moving toward his jaw, he made no effort to stop her as she punched him across the cheek. He was certain it hurt her more than him, but it was more for message sake than it was for physical dominance. And Vegeta felt it.

* * *

***

Gohan was much easier to find than he should have been. Vegeta could not help but notice how small Gohan looked standing on the rock face of a massive cliff.

Vegeta landed behind him and he knew Gohan knew he was there. The boy did not say anything for a long while, barely even acknowledging him. Vegeta knew that if he was to speak to him, that Gohan would have to be the first to talk.

Finally the boy spoke his voice piercing the silence like a dagger. "This is where I first learned to fly."

Vegeta glanced over the cliff and noted the ground that was hundreds of feet below.

"Piccolo threw me off the edge." Gohan paused letting his words carry into silence. "I suppose," he chuckled painfully, "it was either do or die. There was never any in between. No small steps."

Vegeta watched the boy in front of him carefully. "I spoke to your mother."

Gohan chuckled. He still did not turn around to look at Vegeta. "I noticed her bruised fist. I suppose you are lucky she did not bring her frying pan." There was another pause before Gohan continued. "I think I should ask you what she wanted to talk you about."

"She wanted…," Vegeta began. He stopped not really sure how to verbalize what he had to say.

Gohan chuckled. "I have never heard you tongue tied before, Vegeta."

"Gohan, look at me."

Gohan stiffened and then slowly turned around to look at him. Vegeta's stomach twisted. He looked worse than his mother had. It did not look like he had slept for days or eaten.

Vegeta held the boy's gaze. "Are you ready to accept what you are?"

Pain flashed through Gohan's eyes. "What am I?"

Vegeta felt pity tighten the strings of his heart. "I cannot and will not answer that for you."

Gohan lowered his head. When he looked back up at Vegeta, there was a half crazed look in his eyes as his mouth curved into a goofy looking smile. "I am… I am a boy who wonders what would have happened if Piccolo threw his student off the cliff and the student never learned how to fly."

Vegeta looked at the boy's face for a quiet moment studying the hollows of his eyes and cheeks. Then before he allow emotion to touch upon him again, Vegeta attacked. Gohan who stood unguarded and unsuspecting was almost too easy to hit. Both of their bodies catapulted over the cliff's edge. Vegeta stopped himself from falling and allowed his body to float.

Gohan kept falling.

Vegeta watched the young warrior's body fall, forcing himself to feel nothing, until the boy became nothing more than a shadow blending in with the trees below. The prince floated and waited not entirely sure what he was expecting and repressing what he was hoping. Slowly, Vegeta made his way down to the ground. He looked around the area of where Gohan should have landed and found nothing.

Suddenly Vegeta was attacked with much more force than he had expected. His body was thrown in a mass of trees, their shards flying violently through the air. Immediately Vegeta retaliated.

Vegeta was not sure how long they fought. Neither Gohan's nor his heart was into the fight. The motions were mechanic. Gohan was seriously weakened from lack of sleep and food. The techniques of both warriors were sloppy. The fight was graceless. There was no art, no beauty, just angry desperation and uncontrollable grief. It was long after the sun set before they stopped.

Gohan had surrendered himself to the ground. Vegeta watched him warily preparing himself for anything. When no attack was initiated, Vegeta lowered himself to the ground. Gohan's shoulders shook. He was crying. Soundless tears streamed down his face making rivulets through the blood and the dirt. Vegeta watched as Gohan's body heaved and puked. Then the sound of his sobs was unleashed.

He watched a boy forced to become a man. He watched a warrior consumed by grief. Vegeta stayed with Gohan all night, standing guard and bearing witness to the boy's grief and loss. Vegeta knew staying with Gohan was the only way he could protect him. The future held so much – most of it, Gohan would have to face by himself. This was one of the last kindness Vegeta could offer him. It was a silent agreement. Gohan needed this. He needed this relief. He needed to face the pain. Vegeta watched the boy all night. When dawn broke, it was Vegeta that carried the boy's worn out body home.

Chichi met him at the door. He could not decide if the look in her eyes was anger or thankfulness. It was, he thought later, probably both.

* * *

***

"I need to leave this planet."

She was not surprised. Bulma had always expected it. Always dreaded it.

She looked up into her husband's face. She did not need his reasons. Vegeta was a complicated man and him verbalizing his reasons to her would serve no purpose. "Will you come back?"

There was no hesitation in his answer, which surprised Bulma. "Yes."

She felt confused. "Then why are you leaving?"

He smirked at her. Bulma felt her heart ache knowing how much she was going to miss him. "There are some things I have to take care of… other things… other things on this planet that would not develop if I was here."

Bulma was always smart. Sometimes her intuition still surprised Vegeta. "Gohan."

He looked into his wife's beautiful face with a grim expression. "I don't suppose you would believe me if I said it was for the good of the planet?"

Bulma shook her head. "You're right. I wouldn't." She paused. "You think Gohan can protect this planet better than you?"

Vegeta turned away from his wife and walked over the their bedroom window and gazed across the massive lawn. "If I was here, the boy would have no reason to train. He needs to train. He has more potential than any person…"

Vegeta did not need to finish. Bulma walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. "I understand. It will take me about two-weeks to prepare a ship."

Vegeta lowered his head as he brought her delicate hands up to his face. He kissed each one and breathed in her scent. He would miss this. He would miss this more than anything else.

Bulma's voice suddenly picked up an edge to it she tried to repress. "How long will you be gone?"

Vegeta tensed. Finally he answered. "Seven years."

* * *

***

He came to the desert again. He had not come here in months… not since… Vegeta paused. There was something nagging in the back of his mind. Something… something…

Vegeta took to the skies in a blast of sand and rock.

Quickly he did a quick scan of ki signatures.

There was nothing.

He expanded his range. How long had to been? At least three years. Could a child survive this long in a barren desert for this long? Even if the child had survived the wilderness, had he survived Cell or the androids?

Then he felt something. It was weak. Small like all times before, but it could have been something. Vegeta took off to where the ki was located. He found it located on the edge of the desert. Where the sands turned into grasses.

The child was alive. A singular dot between the grasses of endless plains and rolling sand dunes. A long flimsy body stood outside of a crude hut cooking what appeared to be some type of boar. As Vegeta landed, the blue eyes immediately shot to his face. The eyes narrowed immediately.

The child had changed. Gotten longer. The hair was rough and jagged and came down to the square of his jaw. The clothes that the child had before were fashioned now into rags. One wrapped about the child's head. Another wrapped around the child's upper torso as if fashioned by a woman. The pants were turned into shorts. The skinny body was hardly pale, but darkly tanned. It made the brightness of the brat's blue eyes even more striking.

Vegeta broke the silence of their staring competition. "Boy, you are still alive."

The child nodded once.

He stepped closer to the child. He examined the makeshift home and the child's hateful eyes.

Vegeta scowled at the fire that seemed to burn even brighter than he remembered in the brat's eyes. "Boy, are you ready to train?"

The child shifted as the forehead furrowed.

Vegeta waited for an answer as the child opened his mouth. The voice, much like before, sounded scratched and very out of practice.

"I am not a boy."

* * *

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_A/N: Done with chapter 2_

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**ljv**

* * *

_One's victories in battle cannot be repeated - they take thier form in response to inexhaustibly changing circumstances._

_-Sun-tzu (fourth century B.C.)_

***

The Namekian was on the lookout; not as if it was hardly any surprise. Vegeta found him standing on the ledge of the lookout gazing into the clouds, his expression furrowed and almost angry. Vegeta landed next to him. Together both gazed out upon the skies. Neither said anything for a long while. The tenseness between the two men felt like burning.

Eventually, Piccolo spoke. "You are leaving earth." It was not a question; a simple fact.

Vegeta answered him anyway; a kind of justification he was not sure why he was providing. "Tomorrow."

Piccolo thought of this. His voice was gruff almost accusing. "You know what you are leaving behind?"

Vegeta closed his eyes and lowed his head. He spoke slowly and he folded his arms across his chest. "Things are not always simple."

Piccolo grunted as he thought over Vegeta's words silently. "You have come here for a reason, Vegeta."

Vegeta almost smiled at the Namekian's observation. Instead he answered. "I wish a favor of you."

Even though Vegeta's eyes were closed he could imagine the Namekian smirking at his words in mockery. "A favor? What could the great Saiyan prince possibly want from me?"

Vegeta opened his eyes and raised his head. He clenched his fists. Vegeta reminded himself it was better to ignore his insults; reacting to them would serve no purpose. "I am leaving behind a lot… a lot that means everything to me."

"And you are still leaving it?" Piccolo challenged. There was no pity in his voice to suggest he had heard Vegeta's previous words.

Vegeta let out a low breath; controlling his anger. "Yes."

"Why?" The question felt like a cold demand; an insulting accusation.

Vegeta considered his words carefully. "My reasons are my own but also because if I stay Kakarrot's brat will never progress."

"That is quite the prediction, Vegeta. It is also quite a strange thing to leave the planet for another's sake." Vegeta could see Piccolo's sneer from the corner of his eye.

"Is it?" Vegeta asked calmly. "What if I am not leaving for Kakarrot's brat's sake but my own?"

Piccolo's forehead furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Vegeta shifted, not entire where he should start. "Gohan has never been more damaged than he is right now. Most people never become so hurt. Most people never have to go through what he went through. When Kakarrot died, the boy blamed himself. The boy barely has the will left in him to fight."

Piccolo stopped Vegeta. "He cannot be blamed for wanting to take a break from fighting for awhile. He has been through a lot already."

Vegeta shook his head. "The pain runs a lot deeper than that. I've been raised by warriors. I've seen the type of damage they carry with them. Gohan... will never fight again if he does not have to."

Piccolo growled. "I fail to understand why that is a bad thing."

"Because he is the only person capable of protecting this planet." Vegeta snapped, hating his words and the truth behind them more than anything else.

Piccolo blinked. He turned to look at the smaller man who stood beside him. "Are you admitting that you are weaker than Gohan?"

Vegeta growled indignantly. "Just like every other person on this planet. Gohan has potential that is unreal. I do not know what it is about this planet that seems to attract trouble, but it always does. I might be strong, you might be strong, but neither of us have the type of potential the hybrid brat does. If he does not harness it… if he does not use it… this entire planet could be destroyed. Everything that is anything here would be taken away. I cannot and will not let that happen. I have too much here to let that happen."

"And your leaving is going to guarantee that Gohan will continue with his training?" Piccolo challenged.

Vegeta snorted. "Hardly, but it would be incentive. If I am not here, Gohan cannot depend on me to train. He cannot depend upon me as a safety net."

Piccolo spoke gruffly sounding almost insulted. "What about the rest of us?"

"The rest of them are hardly a factor. You are."

Piccolo let a bark like laugh. "I sincerely hope you did not come up here today to convince to leave the planet with you."

"Hardly," Vegeta scoffed. "My request is entirely different."

Piccolo raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Vegeta tensed for this. This request was harder than he thought it would be. "I am leaving behind my son and my mate."

Piccolo immediately stilled.

Vegeta continued. "Because I will not be here, I ask if you will watch over my family in case..." Vegeta paused not really to think of what 'in case' implied. He continued, "In case something should harm or threaten them." Now for perhaps one of the most difficult requests Vegeta had ever made. "My son will not have a father – I ask you to train him in my absence."

Vegeta paused; when Piccolo said nothing, he continued. "Kakarrot has left his woman with another brat. Though I cannot speak for Chichi, I will speak on Kakarrot's behalf; will you train that brat as well- while watching over that family?"

Piccolo did not look at Vegeta; his voice was grave. "You understand what you are asking of me?"

"Yes. I understand."

Piccolo's jaw tensed. Finally, he spoke. "I will."

Vegeta felt a relief and tension ease that he did not know he had.

Piccolo continued speaking. "There is one thing, though. How do you plan on Gohan not relying upon me?"

Vegeta chuckled. The sound surprised him. "I assume you will be too busy with the brats to properly train yourself. Besides," Vegeta added gruffly, "I imagine you, as his teacher, will be there to remind him why we fight."

"And why do we fight, Vegeta?"

Vegeta glanced up at the Namekian. "The same reason we live."

Vegeta watched Piccolo's confused face before he left to find the woman he would not hold for seven years more.

* * *

***

Bulma took the girl away from Vegeta the moment he brought her back to Capsule Corp. When Bulma had found out that Vegeta had left her alone in the wilderness for nearly a year, she had screamed at Vegeta for his insolence. Bulma could not believe Vegeta had done that. She could not believe the girl had survived. She could not understand what it was about a human child that had attracted Vegeta long enough to speak with her, let alone decide to train her. When Bulma's screaming had died down, Vegeta felt it was safe enough to tell his wife that he was bringing the child to space with him in order to train her. This resulted in more screaming.

Bulma had taken the girl into the bathroom to wash her dirty body. Though there was hardly the need, she handled the girl as if she could be broken.

The child seemed unremarkable at first glance. The only thing that stood out was her eyes; eyes that always seemed to be raging - angry and joyful at the same time. It was such an intensity that Bulma found she had trouble holding the girl's gaze.

Bulma began washing the dirt out of the girl's thick hair. "What is your name?"

When the girl was silent, Bulma figured that she would not answer. So when the crackled voice met Bulma's ears, she jumped in surprise.

"Videl."

Bulma was confused. "What?"

The child shifted uncomfortably. Her voice was rough and not entirely pleasant. "My name is Videl."

Bulma repeated her name. She forced her voice to be cheery. "Videl, hmm? It is nice to meet you. I'm Bulma."

Videl did not respond. She sat silently. Bulma could not help but be unnerved as she finished washing the girl. She was thankful when she finished. Bulma was not sure she could handle the child's strange intensity for much longer.

* * *

***

The child, Vegeta decided, looked more like a girl when cleaned. Though that was hardly saying much. The body was so long and willowy. There was no hips or breasts; just a long graceful lines that turned sharp and jerky when she moved. Her face had potential to be pretty if it were not for the scowl. The jaw was extremely square and unyieldingly stubborn that lent itself down into a pointy chin. And then there were the eyes, always the eyes. It had been a great while since Vegeta had seen such cruelty. They were beautiful eyes; eyes that would surrender even the most powerful man to her slightest of whims.

Vegeta paused for a moment. This was the first time he considered that girls eventually become women. Or rather this was the first time he considered that this particular girl would eventually become a woman. Vegeta looked at the girl's body and for the moment could not imagine the child being more than that. Then he looked at the eyes; she seemed so much older than any child. This thought was slightly disconcerting. It made the girl seem almost dangerous. Though Vegeta could hardly imagine a weak child being much damage. But there was something; a feeling that Vegeta knew to be wary of. Not only did his thoughts disturb him they made Vegeta think back to another child who had already surrendered the world within an inch of its life.

* * *

***

It was easier to forgo the goodbyes.

Vegeta left before the breaking of dawn. Vegeta went to go collect the girl. She did not seem surprised to see him standing in her doorway. She looked at him with her piercing eyes as if she could see through him. There were no words exchanged as she followed him silently out to the space ship.

The spaceship was out of the earth's atmosphere in less than five minutes.

The woman Vegeta left behind laid completely still in their bedroom listening to the engines of the space ship she created start and then blast off into space taking away the man she loved. It was not until she heard her baby crying did she rise from her lonely bed. She did not realize until she looked in the mirror at her red, puffy eyes that she had been crying.

* * *

***

The ship had all the specifications he had requested and more. The grandest of all of these was perhaps the gravity machine Bulma had built into the ship. It was the focal point of the ship's design. It resided in the very center. It took up nearly sixty percent of the ship's available space. It was magnificent.

There were two small bedrooms; barely more than closets, but they would serve their purpose. Each bedroom had a minuscule bathroom attached to it as well. The main bathroom was rather extensive and made up for the other two. The bathroom was like an extension of the healing chambers. The bathtub could be made to pour water or to fill with healing liquid. The shower was, in Vegeta's opinion, slightly ostentatious in design and purpose. It was a steam room as well. Bulma had also modified the showerheads so that they would provide enough water pressure to serve almost as a massage. The woman and her luxury were never ending.

The kitchen was simply but well stocked. It served as the sound barrier between the bedrooms and the gravity machine. The control panel was on the opposite side of the ship as the bedrooms. It had been modified to what Vegeta was very similar with when he had been under Frieza's rule.

The woman had placed upon the ship an astounding amount of capsules. The woman had labeled each capsule numerically; below the number was a symbol represented their contents. It was everything and anything Vegeta could possible imagine; cars, houses, medical supplies, senzu beans, gold bricks, copper wire, diamond chips, ship parts, books, clothes, blankets, light. It took Vegeta to realize that not only did Bulma supply the ship with everything it would need, she also supplied Vegeta with enough to trade if need be. Regardless, Vegeta was astounded as to why anybody would need over 44,000 capsules in the span of seven years.

All in all, the ship was astounding.

* * *

***

When he found out the brat was a girl, something within Vegeta's head changed. Some perspective had been altered. It was almost a sense of distaste. Distaste that spawned from the fact that the student he promised to train was a girl when he had expected a boy. Vegeta thought that perhaps it was a little vain; but he did not want train a female. Humans were weak in general, females even more so.

He had considered leaving her. Despite his word to train her, he would have willingly left her in the wilderness. But she had looked at him with those unfathomable eyes.

When she uttered those words, "I am not a boy," Vegeta's face immediately twisted with disgust. The reaction was automatic. The girl watched his face and her blue eyes flashed. At first as if insulted and then amused. They seemed to dance in mockery almost as if knowing his thoughts, as if feeling his disgust at the prospect of training a girl. Her lips curved into a smirk. She was mocking him; making fun of him. Taking his distaste and interpreting it to exactly what it was.

He stood watching her, his jaw slack in a way that was part shock, part embarrassment, but mostly anger. She met his gaze calmly; unafraid and seemingly indifferent to how he would react. It was almost as if she was hoping for a reaction out of him. Hoping to see him take back his promise to train her. Though Vegeta could hardly fathom why she was looking at him like that. Like she was expecting something.

He had appraised her body up and down given an entirely new perspective. 'A girl. A weak human girl.' And she was to be his student. He knew looking into those defiant blue eyes that he would remain good to his word no matter how hard it would be, because it was not the boy he wanted, it was those eyes. There was a challenge presented to him; a challenge he was not entirely certain he understood, but he knew that he could not back down.

As he reached out to grab her body to fly her back to Capsule Corp., she looked at him in a way that could have been disappointment. As if she did not see what she was expecting; as if Vegeta did not react the way she thought he would. She watched him with a bewildered curiosity; like Vegeta was some new and unfathomable puzzle that she had never expected to encounter.

When they landed on Capsule Corp.'s lawn, he immediately released her. She seemed to be expecting this and did not fall to the ground like the first time. Instead, after some initial wobbliness, she gained her balance and turned to look Vegeta in the eye. The expression on her face was strange; confused and vexed. "You are not like…" she did not seem to know the exact word, "other… people."

He was not sure what he meant. He tried to interpret the meaning in her eyes. He could not see through it.

* * *

***

"You are to retrieve energy from your own body and push it outwards."

The both stood in the center of the gravity chamber at five times normal earth's gravity. Her ki, to Vegeta's estimation was too low for her body to withstand such pressure without collapsing. She stood now as if the gravity was hardly even affecting her.

She shifted, her gaze hard, demanding, and as always, stubborn. "Show me."

He scowled at her insolence; at her way of demanding things as if she were his equal. "Brat, you are to remain quiet unless I tell you otherwise."

She did not seem intimidated by his words, nor did she seem upset. Rather she looked into Vegeta's eyes with that strange curiosity.

Vegeta relented. "Give me your hands."

She did as she was told. Vegeta engulfed her small hands with his own. It was then that he let her feel his own energy. He let the warmth of it course through his body and into hers. Her eyes widened in astonishment and then to glee.

Vegeta only let this last for a moment before he let go of her hands; but by the look on her face, he knew it was enough. He had given her a taste of power and she, like all others before her, would only ever crave more.

* * *

***

Vegeta had set course for a solar system that was very close to where Vegetasi had once been. The planet had been a training base for many Saiyan soldiers before Frieza's rule. It was a small planet, about the size of Earth, that boasted a gravity that was nearly twice as much as what Vegetasi's had been. A reason it had been a favored training base for many of the Saiyan warrior elite.

Vegeta did not know if the planet was still there, but he could think of no reason why it would be destroyed. There was no civilization there. The planet itself was filled with metals that were extremely valuable. It had never been mined in the interest of using the planet as a training base instead of a business venture. He could not be sure if that had changed under the Cold family rule. It was very plausible for Vegeta to imagine King Cold or one of his sons extracting the natural resources and using them for financial gain. The planet he remembered might be an entirely different place. For that matter, he could not be sure how much the solar systems had changed since his time on earth.

Earth, though a magnet for danger, seemed to be free of galactic politics. Something that was foreign and disorientating for Vegeta when he had first arrived upon the planet. Earth was something of a backwater type of planet. It was as if Earth was its own little entity separate from the rest of the galaxies. The galaxies Vegeta was familiar with were a collection of other planets and territories that all were interconnected in trade, business, war, and pleasure. It seemed if they were not creating alliances or making treaties they were at war or about to go into war. Galactic politics was always on the verge of tumbling onto itself. It was a chaos that Vegeta missed; a chaos that Vegeta was heading back into.

It was with a sense of fear but mostly a sense of excitement that he would soon be entering the tricky world of galactic politics as the fallen prince of a destroyed planet. He did not know how he would be received. He expected with a sense of hostility. Saiyans were not exactly popular when they ruled galactic politics and he doubted they were any more liked when they were missing a planet and nearly extinct. If anything it may be more incentive to kill him. He would not be surprised if they tried to kill him. His strength would take care of that. Vegeta thought of the girl. If she was associated with him, she would probably be a target as well. She was not strong enough yet, but she would be.

* * *

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**A/N:** _So these first three chapters were written to establish grounds. Now we can finally get started with the plot-line. Who's excited? The story is actually going to start moving. _

_So if anybody is wondering about the meaning of the title of this story, Memento mori is loosely translated as 'remember that you are mortal' or 'remember you will die'. It does seem a little grim but does eventually fit into the plot line of the story. No, I do not mean to kill of the main characters. I just want to remind them that they are mortal - you know, keep them a little grounded. _

_Thank you to those that have reviewed. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**

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**Chapter 4**

**by: ljv**

* * *

_What does not move is dead._

_-Robert Greene_

_***_

He had to test her strength. That process alone was more difficult than he had imagined. It was not that she was incapable. It was the opposite rather. He could not get an estimate of her strength. It was so frustrating. This would be so much easier if he could just get a reading on her ki. Yet, as all times before, it seemed almost nonexistent. When he reached out to feel it, it was barely more powerful than a human newborn's. It hardly made any sense.

He had locked her inside of the gravity machine with him. She stood in the center of the room while he stood over at the control panel. He would systematically increase the gravity with a push of the button. If he could not get a reading on her strength, he could test her stamina. As he increased the gravity to fifty-six, she remained standing – looking at him expectantly; almost bored. Vegeta was becoming increasingly frustrated. Never once did her ki fluctuate.

Vegeta scowled at her.

None of this was making any sense in his mind.

"Brat, who trained you?"

During the short time they had been in space, Vegeta found she had 'qualities' about her that were not exactly natural. Qualities he had never encountered before in his life. Her unchanging ki being the most disturbing thing about her. He was also coming to learn with a twinge of frustrated disapproval that the girl had an insolent mouth on her. The sharpness and insults of her words were comparable to his own.

"I told you before," she answered sharply, "nobody."

There was a finality to her words the Vegeta did not completely believe; an arrogance that Vegeta did not like. Vegeta turned the gravity up to eighty.

Her eyes widened at the sudden fluctuation of gravity as she nearly fell down to her knees. She barely caught herself in time. He had only been turning the gravity up by single intervals before. Her 'mystery' was becoming entirely too frustrating and her blatant insolence vexing. This change of gravity was without a doubt a stress to her body; her face showed her shock. Vegeta smirked. Finally, something other than her calm arrogance. Vegeta did another reading on her ki. He was scowling now, a least more than before. Still the same; still pathetically weak.

Things did not equate in his mind. If she was as weak as her ki suggested she would have been dead at ten times earth's gravity. At eighty she struggled but was not anywhere near her limit; whatever that limit was.

She was breathing heavily now as she struggled to balance. She directed a malicious glare into Vegeta's eyes. He smirked at her. He still had not found her threshold, yet. It was his full intention to do so. He increased the gravity to ninety-nine as she crashed to her knees.

The fire in her eyes sparked. He turned the gravity up another five notches.

* * *

***

While the girl healed in the rejuvenation tanks Vegeta trained. Right now he was at nearly five hundred times earth's gravity. Normally he would turn it up higher, but the machine had limitations in space. The gravity machine based its force on the gravity around it. In space, the gravity levels were nearly nonexistent. When the machine was on a planet, its potential would be greater than it would be in space. Bulma had warned him not to push the machine too high unless he was on solid ground. The limitations were more than frustrating. But he supposed it would be more frustrating to be stuck out in space with a broken ship.

It was more difficult than he thought it would be - training like this; trying to improve his strength while simultaneously trying to teach another. Perhaps if the child were closer to him in strength it would be easier. But now he had to train her. It was self - defeating to kill your student in the effort of teaching them. A fight with him was too dangerous for her. Her strength had to be increased if she was ever going to spar with him.

He thought back to how she had ended up in the rejuvenation tank. At one hundred and twenty times earth's gravity, he finally felt a fluctuation in her ki; it was tiny and barely noticeable, but it was there. And when he felt it; she fainted. It was not much, but at the very least it was something. Now he knew her ki could be manipulated. That fact was strangely a relief to Vegeta but he was not sure why. As low as it was, she was incredibly strong. For a brief moment, Vegeta's stomach fluttered in something akin to fear. If her ki was that low and she displayed the type of strength she did now, what would happen if he increased her ki? What kind of strength and power would that bring forth? Vegeta punched an invisible opponent that felt more tangible in the moment than he cared to admit.

* * *

***

There was a message waiting for him when Vegeta finished training. Vegeta glanced at the machine confused. He had made the woman promise him not to initiate contact unless there was an emergency of some sort. It would be easier that way. No contact unless absolutely necessary; there was no point in opening painful wounds.

Vegeta debated over the pros and cons of opening the message. In the end, he had to trust Bulma. She would not have sent him something unless he needed to know it. He pressed the button to receive it. As Bulma's face appeared on the screen, he felt such joy at the sight of her beautiful face it was almost like pain. It took him a moment to understand what it was she was saying.

_"I understand you did not want me to contact you. But I thought you should know this. I don't expect you to contact me back or to react to what I am about to say in any way… I just think you need to know…"_

Vegeta watched the screen closely. Worry began to push at the edges of his mind. It had not looked like the woman had slept in days. Her bright eyes were uncommonly dull as if worn out by an excessive amount of tears. Her nose was slightly pink and her normally rosy face was very pale. Her voice, even, was not as smooth as before.

_"We never expected it… his death was completely unsuspected…"_

Vegeta tensed. The dark clothing Bulma was wearing made sense. Her normally perfect hair was slightly disarrayed. He continued to listen.

_"I have been comforting Chichi all day… it has been so hard on her…"_ her voice would trail off desperately as if not knowing quite what to say what she needed.

Vegeta froze. Who had died? His mind raced. 'Not the boy. Not the boy.' He should not have left. If he had known the boy would do this… he would have stayed.

He nearly missed Bulma's next words his mind was racing so fast.

_"The Ox King was nearly sixty years old. That's…that's a long time in human years…"_ She said the last part as some sort of justification for death.

Vegeta barely noticed it. He felt like collapsing from relief. Gohan was fine. Or as fine as he could be. He was alive. Vegeta mentally scolded himself for thinking the Gohan would kill… no a Saiyan would never kill themselves. It was too dishonorable. Never.

_"He left behind a lot to Chichi and Gohan…"_

Vegeta scowled at the screen. He could not think as to why the woman would deem this important information for him to know. People died all the time. This seemed hardly relevant. Bulma still had more to say.

_"Ox… he ruled the largest kingdom on earth."_

Vegeta immediately froze.

_"A official successor has not been named yet, but traditionally the title goes to the next eldest male of the Ox line. Nothing has been official yet, but…"_ Bulma trailed off. However, Vegeta knew exactly what the 'but' meant. Vegeta never expected this.

His wife's voice had turned into something of a plea. _"Gohan is so young. There is no age limit in their constitution on age requirements to rule, but… he is just so young. Barely twelve. I don't know if he can… how he can do it. Chichi is in no shape to be queen. She has barely gotten over Goku, now… now her father too. She cannot rule a country. Then again, I do not think a twelve year old boy can do it either."_

Bulma looked desperately into the screen. _"I don't know if Gohan is ready for this. He came to talk to me. He asked me what he should do. I did not know what to tell him. What can I tell him? He is so young. If he was older, it would not seem like such a problem." _Bulma bit her lip as she held back a sob. _"I know what you would say if you were here. You would tell Gohan it was his responsibility – that it was in his blood. I know what you would do. He seems to be waiting for my opinion though."_

Vegeta's hands clenched.

_"I can't ask you to reply to this message, Vegeta. I know that it is not your responsibility to do so… but please… I cannot even begin to know what to tell him. I know so much, but I know nothing about ruling a country. I have never asked for your help before. I have never had to. But you are the only person I know that could possibly know what to say to him. You are the only person that could possibly relate to him. Please, Vegeta."_

Her small frame shook as she paused breathing in deeply as if to calm herself. He watched as she looked at the screen one last time before muttering '_I love you.'_ The screen then turned to black.

Vegeta did not know how long he sat there staring at the blank screen; his mind processing everything his wife had said. Finally, after hours of deliberating with himself, he sent his answer.

Vegeta was never much for words, but his would have to do.

* * *

***

It was wretched; disgusting – like a one time shell of itself. This planet, the lush forests filled with unforgivable dangers, the violent mountains, and extensive oceans, were hardly there. In their place, there was a barren wasteland. The trees of the forests had lost all of their life. They sprout crookedly from the ground like skeletons hanging from the gallows. The oceans were not the purples and greens of his memory – they were ashen and grey, in some spots even black. The mountains were the only thing that retained their glory; only now instead of overbearing violence filled with divine beauty, these mountains shot up to touch the skies like the hands of the damned reaching up to a forever lost heaven.

Perhaps it was too optimistic of Vegeta to expect that Frieza would not mine this planet of its resources. It was a stupid fantasy to expect the planet would be untouched by time and by the Cold family rule. There was nothing left; nothing but desolation. It had been stripped of its beauty; been completely leached of its resources. At the very least, it still had its strong gravitational pull.

The blue-eyed brat had eyed the landscape with a hint of amused distain. He heard her quiet steps as she approached. "We are going to train here?"

Vegeta did not answer, but he really did not have to. She seemed to know, she seemed to understand that this would be her training ground. This place that so greatly resembled one of the layers of hell, would be the place she learned to fight.

* * *

***

She would have to improve the communications system. Bulma let out a low moan of frustration. No matter what she designed, no matter the brilliance of anything she created, whenever she finished she would immediately think of a way to improve it. Always another design. Currently, it was the message system that connected her to Vegeta.

It was too hopeful on her part to expect Vegeta to send her a video message. She scolded herself; she wanted to see his face more than she dared to admit. She knew him far better than that, but she was still disappointed when all that came through was a single written line.

The disappointment then gave way to frustrated confusion as she read his message.

_'Suppose the student never learned to fly.'_

She read it over once more. That bastard. Did he think what she had told him was a damn joke? She did not want a damn riddle; she had enough of those already. Her entire life was filled with riddles, one math problem to be solved, another engineering impossibility to perform, another law of physics to apply. Bulma never had the patience to stand a mystery. Her entire life had been dedicated to breaking them and turning the unknown and impossible into the known and very possible. She did not need his cryptic words, especially now.

Frustration was not new to her, but loneliness was. That paired along with Vegeta's obvious efforts to remain aloof was almost too much for her to emotionally handle.

Perhaps it was selfish of her to feel like the world was falling down around her. When Gohan came and asked for her help, she nearly screamed at him. She could barely handle her reality. It was not exactly as if the world was crumbling. Capsule Corporation had never been more successful. Her son, Vegeta's son, was growing at an astounding rate. She had been busy; exceedingly so. She liked being that way. She like not being able to move after a day of work; she like being mentally defeated every night before she went to sleep. This constant motion made it impossible for her to think of Vegeta. The more difficult and demanding her day would become the easier it was to deal with the fact that her husband was missing. It was so easy to pretend that she did not feel. Yet, sometimes the pain would come creeping back in. The loneliness would be overwhelming and it was nearly enough to destroy her where she stood.

The death of the Ox King was exceedingly painful. She was never close to the man. But Gohan, the boy she loved as a son, was. His heartbreak only reminded her of her own. It was almost impossible not to scream at him for bringing this upon her. When she found out that Gohan was next in line to be king of the largest kingdom on earth she felt suddenly very foolish for thinking that her life was more emotionally difficult than his.

She asked Vegeta for help and this was all he gave her. A cryptic, annoying message. The unimaginable prick. One message that hardly made any sense.

In her rage she curled her fist and punch the communications system's keyboard. She pounded it violently. She did it again and again until all that was left were sharp shards of plastic and delicate wires. She barely noticed that her hands were bleeding as she collapsed to the floor crying.

Damn, Vegeta. The selfish bastard. He did not care about anything else other than himself.

Bulma 's small body curled into an even smaller ball. She felt so cold, she felt so alone, she felt… she did not know how to feel. For the moment, it felt like too much.

She barely moved as she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She had no desire to open her eyes and look who had found her like this. It was despicable and embarrassing to be seen so weak. But as the hands closed in over her shoulders, she knew it was Gohan.

She turned her head slowly opening her bloodshot eyes to look into the young boys' face. She felt relief at what she saw there. The intensity of his eyes was tender. It seemed to be speaking without saying words that he knew what she was feeling. It seemed to be telling her that everything would be okay because whatever she felt, he had felt it too.

She turned her body violently and threw her arms about his shoulders; hugging the boy tightly to her thankful for the look in his eyes. She was not alone. For a moment she forgot that she was the adult and he was the child. She felt so small in the moment standing next to him.

When she finally pulled away from Gohan, he stood there slightly embarrassed as Bulma's outburst. Bulma hardly cared. She stepped back and looked straight into Gohan's face.

"I have a message to relay to you."

He looked at her confused as he glanced over to the pieces communications system that Bulma had destroyed. With a twinge of regret, her hands began to string from the cuts.

She quickly reached over the piece of paper with Vegeta's message upon it. Some of her blood had splattered onto the white page.

Gohan looked at her curiously as she handed him the paper.

Before Gohan could look down to read it, Bulma spoke. "Whatever is on that page, whatever that message means to you, is my answer to your question. If you accept to be king or not."

Gohan stiffened as his eyes hardened. He looked down and read the words on the page carefully.

He then looked back into Bulma's eyes. His mouth twisted painfully before he muttered. "Thank you."

* * *

***

"Brat, you are doing it wrong again."

She was a fast learner. Faster than Vegeta had originally anticipated.

She did not hide her glare from him. He smirked at her.

"Once more. But this time do it right."

She nearly collapsed. For the past five hours they had been working on muscle memory. Over and over again, she would repeat the moves and stances Vegeta had demonstration. Over and over again until she got it right. When she had it perfect, they would do it once more. Vegeta intended to make the moves and defenses second nature to her and right now by the murderous glint in her eyes, he knew she hated him for it.

She was shaking. It was not exactly that the techniques he was teaching her were very hard, but at the pace he was teaching her was nearly overwhelming. The repetition was wearing her down. Vegeta hardly cared; after this she would have to spar him. It would be a shame to let all those new moves go to waste.

Ki manipulation still seemed impossible for her. Or rather, any ki manipulation that Vegeta could sense. He had attempted to teach her to fly fully expecting failure. She learned it within the first hour. Yet, he still could not sense her ki. There was no fluctuation as she at first floated and then zoomed across the skies. It remained at a constant. Never had he encountered anything like this before. It was almost as if her energy hailed from somewhere completely different than other organisms.

He barely had to teach her how to manipulate her ki to form ki blasts. She nearly figured that one out on her own. She learned the most effective punches came when she centered her energy. When her blows began to sting, Vegeta knew she had figured it out. He just showed her how to do the rest, how to push the energy outside of her body.

"Brat, you are getting lazy!"

Vegeta grabbed her wrist roughly and forced the movement out of her tired arm showing her how to do it right.

She snapped her eyes up at him as he let go of her arm roughly.

He glared at her. "Again."

She turned her head defiantly upwards. Vegeta growled at the sight. She was preparing herself to be difficult. So be it. He would show her just how difficult he could be.

"Are you deaf?"

Her lips curled as she stood stiffly.

"Brat, are you just going to stand there?"

She took in a quick breath before she spat. "I have a name."

Vegeta raised a single eyebrow. "I have no patience. Continue before I blast you off of this planet."

She sneered. "I want you to use my name."

Vegeta was still unfamiliar with her insolence. There had been very few people who had ever demonstrated such blatant disrespect to him. Frieza being one of the few. This blue-eyed brat had a self-assurance he had seen in very few people. Most of which men. Men who had ruled empires and men who destroyed them. Men Vegeta had been slaves to; men that still conquered his nightmares.

Vegeta smirked down at her. "You have to earn it first."

Her eyes burned as she spit at his feet.

He furrowed his forehead. Sparring could start early and it could run late. It was not as if they were running out of time.

* * *

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_*******************************_

___A/N:__ The polish on the chapter is a little lacking, but the general idea I believe has been delivered. You know the standard pleading of review._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**ljv**

* * *

_"The greatest harm can result from the best intentions."  
~Stone of Tears_

_***_

"Why do you eat like that?"

It was well into the long night on this planet. One day on this planet was nearly a week on earth. It made the days overbearing long with extremes of heat and the nights freezing in a way that would never seem to end. They sat around a flickering fire resting their tired bodies. Vegeta did not want to waste the precious fuel of the ship in order to keep them warm. He did not know how soon they would leave the planet – had no idea when they were run across adequate fuel. By default, fire was the best choice. By the desperate firelight he could see the blue eyes sparkle in the night.

Vegeta looked up to the brat confused. "What?"

"The way you eat," she elaborated slowly, shifting slightly "why do you eat so much?"

Vegeta studied the brat's open curiosity before answering her. He took another bite of the beast they had killed before answering. There was hardly any meat on the animal's bones. He chose to keep his answer simple. "I have a fast metabolism."

She raised an eyebrow doubtfully. The expression caused her to wince. Her face was still swollen and cut from their last spar. If she did not rest in the rejuvenation tank soon her injuries could very likely become infected. "I have never seen anybody eat way you do."

Vegeta's reply was automatic. "Because humans have a much lower metabolism."

She leaned forward intrigued and perhaps even a little confused. "You're not human?"

Vegeta supposed for a moment that he had said too much. His history was extensive and too complicated. It held burdens he did not care to share. Finally he answered. "No, I'm not human."

She then asked the question he knew would come next. Her eyes still shined with her demanding intensity even though nearly ever part of her face was puffed up making her look almost comical. "What are you then?"

Vegeta only hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure if he wanted to share this personal fact with his student. "I'm an alien from a planet called Vegetasi."

She tilted her head to the side. "You have a planet?"

"Not anymore."

This response seemed to shock her. Finally after a silence she said, her tone a mix between matter of fact and questioning. "You look human."

"You look Saiyan." Vegeta replied blandly. Never mind the strangely colored eyes and the lack of tail. Things like that seemed hardly relevant anymore.

"Saiyan?" She repeated curiously.

"What I am." Vegeta clarified gruffly.

He did not need to elaborate, which he was thankful for. She seemed to understand or simply not care; either way it hardly mattered. She leaned back against the tree she was seated by. She sat so silently that Vegeta assumed she had quickly forgotten about the conversation. He thought for a moment by her even breathing that she had fallen asleep.

As he finished the last of his meal she decided to speak again. The skin around her eyes was swelling up even more profusely than before. It was difficult to tell whether her eyes were open or not.

"I want to know about them."

Vegeta snapped his eyes up to look at her. "About what?"

She shifted uncomfortably. Her movements were extremely stiff as if her body was still sore, which, Vegeta reasoned, it probably was. He would place her inside the rejuvenation tank as soon as she fell asleep. "About Saiyans."

"They're dead." Vegeta replied dryly as if to end the conversation.

She was used to Vegeta's curt and cold comments by now, but the way he had said it made her pause.

Her voice was almost a whisper. "You're alive."

Something in her voice cause Vegeta to look straight at the girl. Her words, so commonplace, left him bewildered. It was as if her observation was something that he had not ever really considered himself; as least not as matter of fact as she stated it. Hearing it for the first time was strangely surprising; warming almost. For a moment he felt something like tenderness that was quickly overcome by disgust. A disgust he did not know was directed toward the girl or himself. Her words, though almost compassionate, felt violent and Vegeta reacted in kind.

He replied condescendingly. "The history of my people is hardly the business of a nosy human brat."

He knew she was never one to back down from a challenge. The fire in his voice would only ignite her own. As her angry insulted voice rose to meet his he scolded himself for remembering it too late. "Then whose business is it?"

"Mine."

The brat scoffed. Her words were getting fuzzy from her swollen lips but the mocking resentment in her voice was still very tangible. "Why yours alone?"

He growled at her.

Vegeta was not willing to explain to her why the burden of Vegetasi's demise was his; how it would only ever be his. He was the strongest child ever born to a race of warriors; a race of warriors that he failed to protect even if he was a child. Every pain that came with the knowledge that he no longer had a kingdom, a home, or a race he willing accepted.

Vegeta hardly noticed that he had stood up. Things, such as the planet that no longer existed, were painful to think about. He wished in the moment he could destroy something. He knew that would hardly calm the fire that had taken residence within him. Taking in a deep breath he turned to look at the beat up human girl still leaning tensely against the tree. Her mouth was pursed into a thin and slightly bewildered line. She looked back up to him boldly. His gaze did not intimidate her; a fact Vegeta was still getting used to. He rolled his head back to look up into the dark sky.

This child, this girl had a way of pulling out the weaknesses in him; the emotional part of him. She had a way of seeing through him. Despite all the frustration and anger this caused him it also brought forth a sense of relief. As if hiding was not only pointless but also foolish.

He looked down on her before uttering a word in the language he had promised himself never to use again. As the word slipped past his lips it was like a relief. A terrifying feeling that was like letting go of something that he held on for far too long.

"Kona." Anger filled the edges of his voice.

She rolled her head forward and looked at him through the swollen slits of her eyes. The open curiosity of her body was back.

Vegeta continued his voice still reluctant and stiff. "That word means 'pride' in my native tongue."

Her body stiffened as if understanding the gravity of what Vegeta was telling her.

Vegeta glanced around the clearing for a stick. He quickly grabbed one and drew a symbol in the dirt. His movements were still jerky; still forceful, almost unsure.

"This is how we wrote it. And this," he continued drawing, "is what it meant to us."

She stood up stiffly using the tree to support her exhausted body. She moved closer to get a better look at what Vegeta had drawn.

Her voice was quiet and for once, respectful. "What does it mean?"

"Sonel." He pointed to the symbol he was referring to. "It means 'life'."

She repeated the word back to him as she reached for a stick of her own. She then replicated both symbols, repeating their sounds as she did so. Hearing his language spoken from another mouth other than his own was nearly too much. It was somehow impressive, beautiful, and absolutely terrifying.

"This," Vegeta demonstrated once more, his hand shaking, "is how we protected it. 'Dena.' It means to fight."

In turn she repeated this symbol too. As she said the word she looked up to Vegeta as if looking for verification that she had said it right.

He gave a curt nod of his head as he drew another symbol. He had forgotten the art of words. He had nearly forgotten the skill and beauty of it. By the long night's end dozens of symbols circled around the fire.

It remained like this nearly every night after they had trained. By the light of the fire he would teach her about a world that had long ago been destroyed. He taught her languages of alien races and stories of his home. Later, Vegeta told himself that it was appropriate that a planet that was nothing more than a skeleton would be the classroom about the world of the once upon a time Vegetasi.

* * *

***

Though, Gohan was not the youngest king to be crowned, Bulma could still not help but marvel how small he was compared to the men that surrounded him. It made Bulma feel, not afraid, but awed in trepidation as Gohan bowed down before his countrymen. The people he would rule, the people he would serve. He was still but a child; a child that was the leader of his people. The implication behind Gohan's stance, surrendered down to his knees, brought fourth a sort of reverence from Bulma that was intertwined with dread.

She stood by Chichi who held the sleeping baby Goten in her arms. Chichi's face was gaunt and much paler than usual. Her black eyes were not shining with fire or the pride that they usually did. Instead there was a sheen that was like a black pit. She watched her son become king without a single emotion on her normally very expressive face. Her narrow body had thinned out even more making her look as if a single touch would break her. Bulma shivered as if she were in a room with a ghost. She wondered briefly, and hoped desperately, that Chichi would be able to recover from the Ox King's death.

In Bulma's arms she held Trunks. He was almost getting too heavy to hold. She shifted him trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Her arms were starting to ache from his weight. He was amazingly silent. Normally he was restless, but now he sat silently in Bulma's arms as if somehow aware of the importance of the event that was taking place. She looked down on him only to have him scowl up at her. He may have been well behaved but he was still extremely impatient.

Bulma looked back to where Gohan was kneeled down. His mass of dark hair, just newly cut, falling over his face hiding any emotion. From her position she could hear the prayer being spoken over him in the original language of the Ox Kingdom. Bulma did not understand a single word of it, but the voice of the monk who was speaking weaved through the air and blanketed the entire room like a heavy weight. It was comforting as well as overwhelming. Almost as if a hand had taken over hear heart and helped it beat but also had the power to stop it as well. She glanced around the room and noticed that nearly everybody else had their heads bent forward as the prayer was being said. Bulma glanced over at Chichi, who, unlike everybody else in the room, held her head high, nearly indifferent to the prayer that was being blessed upon her son. Something about her friend's body language unnerved Bulma. Bulma lowered her head just as the prayer was being finished.

The monk who had blessed Gohan was now speaking as he pulled the boy to his feet.

"The 129th king of the Ox Kingdom, rise."

As screams and cheers filled up the hall, Bulma finally understood what people meant when they said applause was thunderous. It sounded as if a storming was raging.

--

After the endless array of speeches, toasts, prayers, and feasts; it was silent in the castle. Bulma had stayed for the entire event. All the time she had been here, she had spoken to many people, but not once to the young king. But he was always there; surrounded by people. People who flittered and laughed; who spoke with large welcoming smiles.

She had sent Trunks home hours ago with her father. Now, as the last of the guests of the castle departed, she knew that it was time for her to go home too. She had not encountered a day this drawn-out in a very long time. Despite her usually endless energy, Bulma felt very drained. She could not think of any reason for it. A great deal of her adult life had been spent at galas and celebrations like this and she had never felt as worn out after one of those as she did now.

Bulma rubbed her arms in the attempt to warm up and she moved through the drafty entrance hall. Her mind quickly raced as she thought of a way to improve it. Rework the arches and the corners for better insulation and sound barriers. Bulma furrowed her forehead as she pushed the thoughts away. This was not her home. She did not have the right to improve upon the ancient castle that had been in Gohan's family for nearly forty-five generations. Still, as she rubbed her arms again, she had forgotten how cold it was in the mountains compared to home.

A low sigh escaped her lips as she realized she would have to venture outside to open her capsule car. She would have to drive herself since her driver had taken her father, mother, and son home long ago.

As Bulma made it closer to the entrance way she heard her name being spoken.

"Bulma."

Bulma turned immediately recognizing the voice. A slight smile graced her lips. "Hello, Gohan."

He smiled sheepishly at her. Gohan had yet to change out of his clothes from the day. The traditional clothing looked slightly ridiculous on him with its overly bright colors and its awkward shape. But he wore it with the same ease as he wore his training gi.

Gohan caught up to her. "I was afraid I would not get the chance to speak to you before you left."

Bulma smiled at him. "You have been rather busy all day, kiddo."

She realized too late that perhaps that nickname was no longer appropriate for Gohan anymore. He did not seem to mind it.

He flashed another grin at her. "A little."

Bulma smiled at his humor. "What has been on your mind then?"

A flash crossed his eyes as his teasing manner was quickly replaced. "Um… could I speak with you somewhere a little more private?"

Bulma smiled as she took Gohan's arm. "You are a public figure now, kid. 'Private' does not exist for you. I would know. But," Bulma demonstrated with a graceful curve of her arm, "show me the way."

Gohan's mouth curved upward but it was hardly a smile. He directed Bulma through the long hallways to an office that she was assumed was his. Without his prompt she took a seat at his desk as Gohan walked to the other side as sat down. They had yet to remove the Ox King's chair and the size of it looked even larger than usual as Gohan sat down in it. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. He shifted, glanced around the room and then rose quickly as he pushed his grandfather's chair out of the way and moved to grab a chair that was closer to his size.

Bulma fought back a smirk. "Your grandfather was a large man."

Gohan shrugged. "He had to have it special made. It is the largest chair in the world… I think… at least according the World Records book."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. That did not sound like Chichi approved reading material. "Who sent you that?"

"The book?" Gohan questioned. "Krillen."

"Sounds like him." Bulma mused.

Gohan smiled at that but did not respond. Bulma let the smile fall off of her face as she recognized Gohan's tense body language. "What would you like to talk about?"

Gohan looked down on the desk and then rolled his eyes reluctantly up to Bulma's. "I don't… I don't trust my advisors."

Bulma blinked not expecting that as a conversation starter. Finally she responded. "Why?"

Gohan let out a tense breath. "I think because I am so young, many of my advisors will try to… assume power with me as their puppet."

"What makes you think that, Gohan?"

Gohan shifted uncomfortably. He then tapped his ears lightly. "These Saiyan ears hear far more than they are supposed to sometimes."

Bulma furrowed her forehead. "What did they say – your advisors, I mean?"

Gohan looked slightly annoyed. "They said many things. It is obvious though – their intentions anyway. You must have noticed just how little opposition there was between the counsel members that a teenager is assuming power of the largest country on the planet. It is not exactly a coincidence."

Bulma had noticed but did not comment upon in. "I had noticed. Why can't you just get rid of them?"

A grimace made its way onto Gohan's face. "Even if counsel members have willingly accepted me, the people of this country have not. They are wary that a… 'child' is their king. I don't exactly blame them. Getting rid of members of the counsel will only give the public more reason to be distrustful of me."

Bulma thought back to the headlines that had made the front pages of newspapers and newscasts all over the world. They were not exactly flattering to Gohan. Some were even outraged that a boy would assume such power. There were even cartoons in some papers drawn with a baby wearing crown surrounded by men who looked suspiciously like members of the Ox cabinet wearing joker's hats offering the baby toys.

Bulma's normally cheery face hardened into an intense gaze. "Why are you telling me this?"

Gohan's eyes shined painfully. "I need somebody I can trust."

Bulma was taken aback. "Gohan, if you're asking me to become one of your advisors, you know that I cannot. I have a business to run."

Gohan shook his head. "I am asking no such thing. I know that you cannot become one of my advisors… at least an official one. But you are one of the most influential people on this planet. I can ask for your help."

As Bulma looked at the boy in the king's chair, she felt a pang of guilt that she had been one of the people that encouraged him to take on this responsibility. "And I will help you in anyway that I can, Gohan. You know that."

Gohan smiled lightly and the cool calm in his eyes made Bulma forget how young he was. "I am going to need your support now more than ever… politically, technologically, and as a friend."

Bulma tightened her fists; her face stern and her voice stubborn. "I would never be anything less."

* * *

***

He could not stand this planet much longer. It was too dead, too desolate, and too much. Vegeta had chosen a more centralized planet to visit next. It was a political battlefield – a large planet that housed nearly every walk of life imaginable. Trade, entertainment, pleasure, and knowledge congregated there. That chaos would be a welcome contrast to the hell hole they were currently residing. But, Vegeta had to admit, the planet had served its purpose well.

Vegeta's strength had increased. Even though the gravity of the planet was less than what he subjected himself to in the gravity machine on earth, it was at a constant. Something he could have never realistically achieved on earth. His strength and endurance had improved considerably. The girl had also progressed in skill and in strength tremendously. Or at least, when she punched him, it hurt more. Her strength was still impossible to sense. Though this still disturbed Vegeta, he did not linger upon it. There were more things to worry about than the girl's apparent lack of ki.

It was to Vegeta's great astonishment that he began to become fond of the girl. The transition was odd. It went from a mutual dislike and a distanced respect to something of a friendship. Not exactly a friendship but a kind of dry enjoyment of each other's company.

He liked that he did not have to talk to her for days. He liked the fact that when they did talk to each other it was not forced, but easy conversation that could pick up flawlessly where they had left off. She still had a violent tongue but her words were never really malicious. She could take his insults without retreating into anger but instead meet his challenge with equal wit.

She did not have a past as far as he could tell. When he had asked her where she had come from, she responded dryly.

"_The desert."_

_Vegeta growled, annoyed. "Before that."_

_She shrugged her shoulders as she twisted a dead stick idly between her hands. "There was nothing before that."_

"_Girl, you must have had a mother or a father."_

_She shook her head. "I had no mother."_

"_A father?"_

_She stopped twirling the stick in her hands as she stopped and looked at him. Her mouth curved slightly as if mocking him. She answered him with a matter of fact voice. "You brought me from the desert." She paused as if it were obvious. "You are my father."_

Vegeta had been too surprised to respond. Yet as he thought her words over he supposed that he was. He had trained her, taught her, and taken care of her. Though she did not have his genes, he was her father in everyway that mattered. As he looked once again into her burning blue eyes, he saw the anger in them that was more like him than anything else he had ever encountered.

* * *

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_**A/N**_: _I am trying to keep the politics of this story as simple and straight forward as possible. I don't want to involve anything that won't be crucial to the development of this story. If some of the politics do not make sense please tell me so I can clarify them. _

_Thank you for lovely reviews of last chapter. They were greatly appreciated. Please R&R._

_Also, this chapter is highly unedited. Which leaves me to request - How would I find a Beta reader for this? If anybody is interested please let me know._

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**ljv**

* * *

_It is easier to cope with a bad conscience than with a bad reputation._

_-Friedrich Nietzsche_

_***_

"Gohan, it's been all over the news…" she paused, barely breathing, "Tell me it isn't true."

Her hand tightened around the phone as she listened dread filling her stomach as each new word was uttered.

Her head lowered as her free hand ran through the tangles of her hair in frustration; dread and reality mixing together into one. Her voice was something of a plea. "You can't trust him. He isn't a good man. He has made his entire career based on a lie."

"How did you even meet him?.... Your advisors are idiots appointing an even bigger idiot!"

Bulma had long ago retired to a chair. The grease that covered most of her body was smearing on the phone. She regretted briefly that she was not working, but after glancing, just by chance at the morning's newspaper, she immediately called Gohan.

She cut off whatever he was saying from the other end of the line. "Hercule is not a good man, Gohan. Making him one of your advisors is one of the worst things you could possibly do."

Gohan was talking again and Bulma did not like what she was hearing. Rage began to infuse with the dread and was becoming clearer in her voice. "I don't need to know him! He lied to the entire planet – you of all people should understand than particular vice better than anybody else."

It was of a greatly controlled effort that she managed to listen to Gohan. She could only keep this reserve for so long.

Now the desperation and accusation began to play its strings. "What has become of you? I don't like to think that you have been corrupted, but the way you are speaking… No, I don't want to meet _that_ man!"

Bulma grabbed the newspaper which had both Gohan's and Hercule's picture on the front page and threw it across the room managing to topple the device she had been working on all morning to the floor. She barely cared as the pieces scattered around the lab.

Her eyes narrowed, her voice stern. "If I give any advice, it is this. He is not a man to be trusted. He is not admirable and he will use any power you give him to his own selfish advantage. Introducing a corrupt man into your group of advisors is like planting a bad seed and it will only grow."

Bulma threw her head back as frustration overwhelmed her. She focused on Gohan's words. After a very tense moment, in which Bulma focused on her breathing, she answered the words uttered on the other end of the line. "I will meet with him, then. I can't promise to be civil. Then I will give you my opinion on the matter. But I am very confident in saying that I doubt it will change… Don't thank me, Gohan. I'm doing this for myself. I am more concerned about your well being than I am _that_ man's moral standing."

"Alright, kid. I'll see you tomorrow night then… at Cordillera Palace okay… goodbye."

Bulma set the phone down carefully as if hyper aware of her capacity of destruction at the moment. She let out a low sigh before hunching forward in her chair to place her head between both of her hands.

Of all the bizarre things, it was this. Gohan had appointed Hercule as one of his official advisors. The news had made headlines all over the world and at first Bulma thought it was a practical joke. While the public met Hercule's appointment with great enthusiasm, Bulma felt dread.

Hercule was a liar. The simplicity of the statement was justification enough for her mistrust of him. She understood the world was not black and white, but with Hercule, Bulma saw no grey. He had taken the accomplishments of another and claimed them as his own. He had made a fortune off of his lies and Gohan's success and she could not comprehend why Gohan would, not only consider him as an advisor, but also appoint him as well.

Despite Gohan's sharp intellect and strong constitution, he was still a child. Fifteen was hardly wise. With that guileless came a great capacity to make huge mistakes. Hercule being an instance in point.

But, she had promised Gohan to meet with Hercule, no matter how much the thought of it disgusted her. Tomorrow she would have to be on her best behavior. Now, however, she could tear some equipment apart.

* * *

***

While rejuvenation tanks were excellent for healing cuts, bruises, internal damage, and physical illness, they were completely useless when it came to re-aligning joints and bones. Somehow the girl managed to get her entire spine out of line along with several of her ribs and both of her shoulders. These were not dangerous hindrances but hindrances all the same. A senzu bean was too precious to waste on such minor injuries and Vegeta found himself acting as nurse. A position he had to assume more and more often.

The girl was an excellent fighter despite her being human, something Vegeta had difficultly admitting to himself. She learned things with such speed that it still astounded him whenever he taught her. Despite having an unreadable ki, she was very strong. Several times, Vegeta found himself hard pressed not to go Super Saiyan when sparring with her. However, her body was human no matter how she trained. Her capacity was not unlimited not like his. When she became injured it was usually more serious than if Vegeta had obtained similar injuries. Not only could she be injured easier, her body took longer to heal. To make matters worse, her body was not designed to handle the intensity of a Saiyan's training.

Her body was starting to break down. Or rather, her bones were starting to give way. They were becoming easier and easier to break. At first it was easy to ignore, but soon every spar was accompanied with a trip to the medical ward to set her joints. While it worked for now, Vegeta knew soon enough a time would come when a bone could not be re-set, when the damage would be permanent, and he could not stand it. The process was almost tragic to watch.

It was a mistake on Vegeta's part to have placed so much faith in her. Now that he had, no matter how much he regretted it, he could not take it back. There would have been nothing worse than watching her own body defeat her. That job was for him. He hoped upon arrival to Almien there would be doctors there that could help. He held on to the belief that the technology there would be great enough to make her body greater than what it was designed to be. He wanted to give her the opportunity to make her own destiny.

Now, her long skinny body was stretched out on a heated metal counter in the mini medical bay on the ship. She wore nothing except spandex shorts and a bra, even though her body had yet to start to develop breasts. Vegeta had placed heating pads under her back in the attempt to relax her muscles before he popped her spine back into place.

Her face was furrowed as if in pain and her eyes were closed. Having a spine out of place was a distinctly uncomfortable situation. The girl was handling it quite well. He watched her slow, pained breathing thoughtfully.

"Girl, when I first found you…"

She growled out in aggravation not even bothering to open her eyes. It was a habit she developed whenever he began to pry into her past. Her soft demanding voice cut him off quickly and angrily. "I don't remember."

Vegeta scowled down at her. The persistence she put forth in claiming to forget her past was becoming entirely to aggravating and he was tired of trying to break down her walls. "I was not finished, brat."

When she said nothing, her mouth pursed into a thin line, Vegeta continued. "When I first found you, what was it that you stole?"

Her eyes snapped open angrily and Vegeta thought for a moment that she was going to deny him the information like every time before. Then her lips turned upwards slightly and quite suddenly; the expression on her face made her look crueler than usual. It was almost as if the memory was too pleasurable to deny him. She shifted slightly to gain a better view of his figure leaning against the wall.

"It was a diamond bracelet." She allowed slyly after a quiet moment. "And," she continued impishly, "I did not steal it."

Vegeta raised a single eyebrow. A mixture of strong suspicion and vague success battled dully for dominance. "No?"

"No," she elaborated, turning her gaze back to the ceiling and closing her eyes, "I found it."

"You found a diamond bracelet." Vegeta repeated doubtfully. He leaned away from and walked over to where Videl was laying. The proximity of his voice prompted Videl to open her eyes. "Where did you find it?"

"A woman dropped it." Videl stated simply, holding his gaze calmly as if daring him to doubt her.

Vegeta recognized her lie. He went along with it anyway as he grabbed her arm massaging the space between her torso and shoulder.

"That would be considered stealing, brat."

Her eyes flashed. "Losers, keepers."

Vegeta ignored his justification as he popped her left shoulder back into place. He moved to work on the right shoulder. "Why didn't you give it back to the woman?"

"If she could not appreciate it enough to hold on to it, then she didn't deserve it."

"And you did?"

She winced slightly as he popped her shoulder back into place. "Did what?"

"Deserve it."

There was no hesitation in her answer, "Yes."

"You are the most arrogant child I have ever met." Vegeta observed ruthlessly.

Videl did not seem to mind Vegeta's observation. Instead her mouth curved into a large smirk.

"Do you still have it?" He continued questioning turning her body over so she was lying upon her stomach.

She turned her head to the side so that her cheek was touching the metal. "The bracelet?"

"Hmm." He ran his hand down her spine feeling for vertebrae that were out of place.

A high giggle escaped her lips. The sound was strange to Vegeta's ears. Suspicion tugged more persistently than before.

"I hid it. And," the glint in her eye dangerous "when we get back to earth I'm going to get it back."

Vegeta could not resist antagonizing her logic. "And if it is not there when you get back?" He pressed down on her back sharply, several of her vertebrae popping back into place knocking some of the air out of her.

"Then," she began simply, catching her breath, "I will find the person that stole it and cut off each one of their fingers and stuff each one down their throat."

He did not challenge this particular statement. By stubborn line of her lip he knew well enough that she was not lying about defending the bracelet. Whether or not the story she was giving him about her methods of acquiring the bracelet were truthful or not, it was certainly true that she had a bracelet. It was also very apparent to Vegeta that she would defend it, violently if need be.

"It means a lot to you." Vegeta comment dryly, moving his hands down her back.

"Before you found me," her arrogant nature suddenly dropping and becoming so sincere it was surprising, "it was all I had. So yes, it means a lot to me."

Vegeta tilted his head upwards so he could look down his nose at her. "Enough to kill for it."

She hissed as he pressed down on her back once more; a crackling accompanying the sound. Instead of answering him, she tilted her head upwards slightly so she could look at him more evenly and simply smiled, the prideful line of her mouth returning.

Watching her face closely, he changed the direction of the conversation. "Tell me, brat, why a diamond bracelet?"

Her head tilted, confused. "As opposed to what?"

Vegeta shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "As opposed to money or even food."

Her eyes narrowed as the smirk on her face became challenging. She lowered her cheek back onto the metal bed. "I like things that shine."

Vegeta blinked, entirely not expecting such vanity in her justification. But there was something else; something that was connecting in his mind and it was just beginning to make sense now. The first time Videl had seen him transform into a Super Saiyan, there was a look in her eyes. At first Vegeta thought it was fear but there was something else and he finally understood it. Possessiveness.

Then a low derisive laugh escaped his lips in sardonic amusement.

Raising her head again, the brilliant blue eyes narrowed, her voice demanding and cold. "What is so amusing?"

The expression of Vegeta's face was entirely too insulting. His black eyes glinted his amusement. "I don't suppose I ever imagined you as the type."

Confusion flickered across the anger on her face before amusement took its place. The glint in her eyes becoming provoking. "And what was it that you imagined my type was?"

"Your type…" Vegeta paused, the line between his eyebrows deepening. His relaxed sarcasm suddenly disappeared and become replaced with abrupt and disorientating dread. For a moment he could think of no reason for the sudden change in his mood and then he thought of what the girl had just asked him. He found himself not wanting to answer the question at all.

To Vegeta, Videl was the type that would wear a war scars with more pride and glory than the most beautiful piece of jewelry. Yet it was more than that. She was not the kind that shined, not like diamonds or gold; rather, she burned like a bright flame of overwhelming heat that devoured everything within its reach and then produced an even greater light. She was a destroyer and a creator with a capacity that was just as devastating as it was wonderful. And Vegeta did not know how he knew it, but he did. He always knew these things. And he did not, even remotely, like it.

"Your type," Vegeta tried again, a dark derisive smirk taking over his features replacing his furrowed scowl from a moment before, "is dirt."

He could not help his laughter as she launched herself at him in the attempt to strangle his neck. It was her fault that her joints would have to be reset again.

* * *

***

"Mrs. Briefs, we have been expecting you." The butler held out his arm. "May I take your coat for you?"

Bulma smiled politely inclining her head slightly. "No, thank you, Mr. Wells. I don't plan on making this a long visit."

She ignored Mr. Well's raised eyebrows. He corrected himself quickly. "Very good, Mrs. Briefs."

Bulma allowed a gracious smile to adorn her face. "Tell me, where am I supposed to meet King Gohan?"

The butler's eyes widen slightly. "Oh, I am sorry, Mrs. Briefs. But the young king was summoned about an hour ago to the western part of the Ox Kingdom concerning a very urgent business matter in Haven City. He was very sorry he was not able to be here tonight. You understand, of course. In any case, Mr. Satan_ is_ here. It is to my understanding that the reason you have graced us with your presence tonight is to meet with him."

Bulma did not like this. She expected Gohan to be present for this meeting. Her coming here to meet Hercule was hard enough as it was. Now she would have to face him alone. "That is correct." She furrowed her forehead distressed. She did not know if she could control her anger toward him without anybody else there to keep her in check. "Is Gohan not expected back tonight, though?"

"I am afraid that it is very unlikely. He will have to stay in Haven City overnight at the very least if not longer. If it is pertinent you must see him, he will be staying at the Hollow Palace."

"No, nothing pressing. But what about Lady Chichi?" Bulma persisted.

"The Queen mother has gone with her son to Haven City. She also brought along the young prince Goten. Is this going to be a problem, Mrs. Briefs?" He asked politely.

"Oh, no." Bulma assured him quickly. "I was just hoping to see them, that's all. But it is no matter."

"Very good, Mrs. Briefs. Is there anything else?"

"Nothing very pressing. Well actually, do you happen to know if Lady Chichi is going to stay in Haven City as long as Gohan stays?"

"The Queen mother will stay no longer than a few days in Haven City. I believe she is due in the capital in two days to propose the Education Reform before Congress. You are part of that plan too, are you not?"

Bulma nodded once feeling suddenly very resigned. The next time she would be seeing anybody in the Son family would be purely for business reasons. "Yes, I am going to present the plan with her."

"Of course. I am sorry you will not be able to see them before then. The matter in Haven City arose rather abruptly."

"Very well. Where is Hercule?"

"He is waiting in the Green Room, it is being used as his temporary office until he becomes an official advisor.

The idea of Hercule as an advisor struck a bitter cord within Bulma.

Mr. Wells continued. "If you just come with me, I'll show you the way."

Bulma stepped further into the entrance. "Thank you."

Mr. Wells nodded his head once graciously as he began to lead Bulma through the long winding halls of Cordillera Palace, which was strangely busy with maids who were taking advantage of not having to hide from their master's view.

They stopped in front of a rather unimpressive looking door. He then turned to look at her. "Here we are, Mrs. Briefs. Mr. Satan is waiting in here. There is no need to knock. He is expecting you."

She smiled lightly. "I think I can take it from here. Thank you."

Mr. Wells returned the smile and then promptly turned on his heel and continued to walk away. Bulma watched him until he disappeared out of sight. She breathed in deeply before turning the handle; the metal cold and smooth to the touch.

Bulma was not sure what she was expecting behind the door but it was not what she found. The man she remembered from brief snippets of television interviews and photographs in newspapers and magazines was always a comical figure that inspired such anger and revulsion she could barely stand the thought of him. He was a showman with a deep voice and a wide white smile whose words were strangely enchanting. He was the most convincing liar she had ever seen and it disgusted her.

Hercule immediately looked up upon the opening of the door. His height was more impressive than what she had seen in pictures. The broadness of his shoulders was overt. His face was startlingly kind. As his eyes met hers Bulma was struck suddenly that she was not looking at the same man she had seen in the media. He was not dressed in his usual fighting uniform but instead in easy formality. His afro was pulled back into a low ponytail and his face was clean-shaven. Yet what struck her the most were the eyes. They did not at all seem comical but strangely sincere. Something she was entirely not expecting. The color and the shape of them also pulled at a familiarity that she could not place.

A slight smile spread kindly across his face. "Mrs. Briefs, it is a pleasure."

Bulma blinked, surprised and thrown off guard by his strangely warming voice. She retained her cool demeanor despite. "Mr. Satan."

He rose from his seat on the other side of a desk and walked swiftly to the other side to pull a chair out for Bulma cordially. He gestured gently with his hand.

She stepped further into the room shutting the door lightly behind her. Bulma glanced down at the chair Hercule had pulled out suspiciously. After a brief moment of deliberation she walked over to the chair and sat stiffly down in it as Hercule began to walk to the other side of the desk to take his own seat.

Bulma read the inscription on the desk and glanced about the small room. Which was not green, but was pale white with a large window directly behind the desk.

She raised her eyes to meet Hercule's and was struck again but the implacable familiarity of his eyes. She ignored this pulling. Instead she prompted in more of an observation than a question, "This is your office?"

Hercule nodded graciously despite the cold tone of Bulma's voice. "For now."

"Why do they call it the Green Room?"

He shrugged. "In the daylight it is supposed to have a great view of the gardens."

"Hmm." Bulma responded dryly.

Hercule watched Bulma quietly before he spoke. "Originally we were supposed to meet in the Milieu Room. But I am sure by now that you have heard of King Gohan's departure to Haven City."

"Which is very unfortunate." Bulma supplied shortly.

A twitch of a smile formed upon Hercule's lips at Bulma's blunt tone. "You are not fond of having a conversation alone with me."

Bulma blinked at the bluntness of Hercule's observation. She became insulted before she could control her emotions enough to hide them from her voice. "Excuse me?"

A slight smile curved Hercule's lips at Bulma's emotional outburst. He began speaking slowly. "I was able to get in a few words with King Gohan before he left." He paused as if to allow Bulma a moment to absorb his statement. "He warned me of your… reluctance to meet with me."

Bulma arched a single eyebrow but said nothing.

Hercule continued after it was obvious she was going to refrain from commenting. "Regardless of your tenacity concerning me, King Gohan did want the two of us to meet. He holds your opinion in very high regard."

"If that were so," Bulma began coldly, "this conversation would not be taking place and you would not be sitting in this office. My opinion must not be worth enough."

He did not seem insulted or threatened by her words. "Fair enough." He paused. "I am not sure how Gohan wanted this conversation to go, though I do have some general idea in the direction he wanted it to end up in."

"And what direction is that?" She cut in sharply.

Another kind smile wove itself onto Hercule's lips. "The Cell Games."

Once again Bulma was taken aback by not only the bluntness in which Hercule spoke but the simple calm and perplexing kindness in his words. It was completely different from the lies and arrogance she expected from him.

Hercule sensed her surprise and resumed speaking. "It was one of the first conversations I had with Gohan as a matter of fact."

Bulma had collected her voice again. "Why did you lie?"

Hercule's eyebrows rose slightly but he did not at all seem uncomfortable with Bulma's accusation. "You know how to call your punches." Traces of amusement pulled bitterly at his lips.

Bulma ignored this. "You lied to an entire planet. All your success, all of your career is based upon a lie. I want to know what kind of man can lie to an entire planet and then look it's inhabitants in the face and smile. I have much more ammunition than that if you would like to hear it. Shall I go on?"

"You're bitter." Hercule remarked plainly.

"You're dancing around the question."

The kindness on his face disappeared. There was no anger nor was there shame; instead his face hardened in a sadness that was not regret but almost wisdom. Once again Bulma was startled by his apparent lack of arrogance.

His response was too simple. "Hope."

"Hope!" Bulma repeated outraged. "What kind of hope can be found within lies?"

"The same type of hope," he responded calmly, "that you feel when you see a king stand before his people."

Bulma scoffed. "You're comparing yourself to a king?"

"No."

"Then what do you mean by that statement?"

Hercule watched Bulma's angry face closely. After a moment he leaned back into his chair as he directed his gaze upwards. He let out a low breath. "Imagine what the world where no name was provided for the responsibility of Cell's downfall."

"Verses a world that was conned into a lie?" Bulma snapped back bitterly.

He ignored her and continued talking. "A world in which a mystery is more devastating than a lie."

"A mystery being a world where you did not take credit for Cell's defeat and a lie being reality?"

Hercule tilted his head to look at Bulma more evenly. "If that is how you simplify it – then, yes."

Somehow, Bulma managed to feel more insulted. She was actually becoming angrier at his controlled calm.

"What is your point?" She managed through gritted teeth.

"If there was no name for the savior that defeated Cell, if there was some phantom, some nameless golden warrior, then the people of this planet have nothing to believe in, nothing to aspire to. Earth needs a hero even if only by name and nothing else."

"And you're the name?" She challenged.

"I'm hope."

Bulma was fed up. "And why is this hope so important to you?" She threw her head back defiantly. "You seem nothing more to me than a fraud."

"Perhaps you're right." Hercule agreed. "Then again I might just mean what I say."

Bulma studied him, considering despite her anger. "Hope means a lot to you. Why?"

Hercule looked at Bulma strangely. He leaned forward, his bright blue eyes piercing into hers. Once again Bulma felt the strings of familiarity pull at the corners of her mind.

The sadness in his eyes became more pronounced and so intimidating that Bulma had a hard time holding the gaze. "Sometimes hope is all I have to get me through the day."

It seemed as if an arrow had just been shot through Bulma's body. A cold heavy feeling that seemed to take hold of her heart. Hercule's words hit on such a personal level that for the moment she refused to confront the feelings it brought forth.

Bulma understood. Sometimes hope was all she had; hoping and praying for Vegeta to come back to her. Sometimes it was all she had to get through the day.

She hardly realized that her voice was shaking as the next question came out of her mouth. "What do you hope for?"

Pain flashed through Hercule's eyes before it suddenly cleared. As his eyes cleared so did the cold in Bulma's gut. Her anger did not come back though. Instead she felt a calm that was not exactly trust but a kind of kinship.

The blue of Hercule's eyes became kind and bitterly humorous. A vague smile curved along his long lips. His voice was slightly teasing but Bulma felt it pull deeper.

"For a pair of eyes which look like my own."

Confusion danced lightly upon the furrow of her forehead.

She then stood up very suddenly. Hercule looked up at her in surprise but did not comment. Bulma looked down on him.

"I will speak to Gohan as soon as I can."

Hercule nodded once.

Bulma continued her voice rushed and choppy almost as on the edge of tears. "I will tell him… that you are an excellent choice for an advisor."

She did not bother to see Hercule's expression. She left the office as quickly as possible.

She was not sure if she could call it defeat or fear. What she could call it was shame of hating a man for the reasons she should have admired him for.

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_A/N: Done with Chapter 6. Yay!_

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**ljv**

* * *

_Successful wickedness hath obtained the name virtue...when it is for the getting of a kingdom._

_-Thomas Hobbes 1588-1679_

***

Bulma leaned closer to the computer screen. Sweat beaded upon her forehead as she glared at the monitor willing herself to understand the calculations before her. Numbers and familiar equations that made so much sense before danced before her like a foreign language. She growled out in aggravation.

Bulma leaned back in her chair with a sigh, aggravated and exhausted. She had not slept in nearly two days and it was starting to show. She needed to sleep but knew if she tried to go to bed she would not be able to. Her mind was simply too full of numbers and mechanics that would not fit together. It was like repeatedly hitting a wall. Over and over again and the harder she hit the more impossible the wall was to knock down.

She could not give up. Once her mind found a problem to solve it was nearly impossible for her to let it go. But the numbers, equations, and mechanics danced around her like a bad dream. She kept looking into them searching for the answer that she felt was just… out …of … reach.

"Bulma."

She jumped, coming out of her slumber. She looked around the room widely, her eyes wide and bright. She calmed slightly as the sight of the intruder.

Vague confusion pressed at the edges of her voice. "Gohan, what are you doing here?"

He chuckled scratching the back of his head. "I thought I might see you. Are you busy?" His smile broadened at the last part.

Bulma blinked, bleary eyed; much too tired and confused to feel embarrassed for being caught sleeping in her lab. "Oh no… well, yes. But I should take a break. None of this is making sense right now anyway."

Gohan stepped forward so as to gain a better view of the computer screen. "What are you working on?"

She blinked trying to remember enough to speak coherently. "Um…It's a new design for the biomedical engineering department. We are trying to design prosthetic limbs that work like actual human body parts – actually we have been trying to do that for several years now. We have the best of our mechanical, electrical, and biomedical engineers working on it. I am working on the mechanics of it. There is another team that will come in about two hours from now to work on the biological part of the design."

Gohan stepped even closer seemingly interested. "Have you come very far on it?"

Bulma shook her head. "Unfortunately not. Nothing past a robot working like…well… a robot. The trick is to combine the human body with machinery and finding the bridge to do it. It is very complicated. But the answer is close. I can almost see it. It is so frustratingly close but I just can't seem to _get _it."

"Do you mind if I take a look at it?"

Bulma was surprised. "Um… sure, if you would like to."

Moving away from the screen, she watched as Gohan leaned closer gazing at the configurations before him. His face screwed up as he considered the data before him carefully. He let out a low sigh. He leaned away from the screen letting out a bitter laugh.

"I'm a bit out of practice. Most of those calculation don't make much sense to me anymore." He looked back at the screen again. "But this variable here," he pointed to an equation upon the screen, "really jumps out for some reason. As a matter of fact," he continued, leaning very close to the screen once again, "it is nearly everywhere in this design. What does it represent?"

Bulma looked at what Gohan was pointing to. "That variable represents a synthetic silicon compound I created that is excellent for conducting electrical impulses like neurons do in the human body. It is what makes the muscles move and feel. Basically it sends signals back and forth to the brain and is very important to the design… but there is something wrong and I just can't seem to find the glitch."

Gohan stepped away from the screen again, smiling at Bulma. "Sounds like one heck of a challenge."

Bulma laughed. "That's an understatement." She turned her laugh into a calm smile. "So Gohan, what are you up to today?"

"I was training."

For the first time Bulma noted the blue training gi that he was wearing. "I'm glad to hear that. You must be taking a day off from your diplomatic duties then?"

A low chuckle escaped from Gohan's lips. "There is no such thing, I'm afraid. I'm just taking off the afternoon. I thought while I had the chance, I would see you."

"Well," Bulma smiled brightly, "I'm flattered."

"Actually," his expression turning much more serious, "I found something in the desert while I was training and I wanted to show you."

"Oh, yeah." She laughed, intrigued. "What would that be?"

From the belt of his gi, Gohan pulled out a small bundle. Very carefully he began to unwrap it.

As the cloth fell away, Bulma let out a gasp. "Is that…?"

"Well, I'm not sure. That's why I brought it to you."

Bulma reached forward as Gohan delicately placed the object in her hands.

"Did you really find this in the desert, Gohan?"

He nodded once again.

She studied the object as it glinted in the light. "These diamonds are exquisite. I can't believe anybody would just leave this in the middle of nowhere."

"Neither can I. So, they're real then?" Gohan questioned.

"Well, I would have to bring it to a jeweler to be sure. Jewelry is not my area of expertise. But I have my own collection of jewelry and very few of my own pieces meet up to the beauty of this. It is absolutely stunning. The thought of somebody leaving this in the middle of a desert…"

"Would you like to keep it?"

Bulma looked up at Gohan in surprise. "Oh no. I don't think I could." She glanced down at the bracelet once again. "I wouldn't want to actually. Whoever this belonged to must have understood the value of it to wrap it up so protectively even if they did leave it in the desert." Bulma frowned at the contradiction of her statement. "Where _exactly_ did you find it anyway?"

"It was in a cave at the edge of the Western desert."

"Why did you go in there in the first place?"

Gohan shrugged. "It was just by chance that I decided to go in there. Mostly I was just curious. A cave out in the middle of nowhere – I don't know… thought it might be interesting. I never expected to find this bracelet, though."

"Well," Bulma considered, "perhaps you should bring this bracelet back to where you found it."

"And leave it to the elements?" He asked doubtfully.

Bulma shuddered at the idea of something so beautiful being ruined. "Well, I suppose not." She thought quietly for a moment. "I'll tell you what – I'll bring this to my jeweler so he can appraise this for me. Perhaps even find the jeweler who made it. A lot of them leave their signature on the stones. That way we might even be able to find out who purchased it and we can return it to them."

Gohan smiled at the idea. "That would be good." He glanced at the clock. "I should get going, Bulma. I would like to get in some more training before I am due back."

She nodded. "Sure thing, kid. I'll see you later."

* * *

***

"Has she reached the age of maturity for her species?"

The woman turned to look at Vegeta, not before her yellow eyes scanned briefly over Videl who lay silently upon the medical bed.

Vegeta shifted only vaguely uncomfortable with the question. "Her scent changed about three months ago and five weeks ago she had her first menstrual cycle. She has reached the reproduction maturity for her species if that is what you are asking."

The woman nodded making notes on her clipboard, a few orange strands of hair falling into her face. "I found nothing in our archives concerning human anatomy." She raised her gaze. "It does not appear that our libraries have extensively catalogued the human species. Are they a very advanced planet?"

Vegeta shook his head. "No, the technology on Earth is not as advanced as most planets. They are very far removed from other planets. They deal very little with issues outside of their own atmosphere."

The woman once again made notes upon her clipboard. "The species that seems to be the closest to her anatomy seems to be your very own. Humans and Saiyans are very similar in structure, yes?"

"Not similar enough. That is why we have sought you out."

The woman raised her eyes from her notes. "Yes, I noticed the condition of her bones in the X-rays. " Her voice picked of a cynical accusation was the barely concealed with her professional indifference. "They look as if the should belong to an old woman instead of a young girl. Her ligaments and tendons have been stretched and twisted in odd ways suggesting over-extension. There also seems to be a few growing stunts in the base of several of her bones, which is probably one of the reasons that she is so short. Tell me, has her body undergone any extensive stress?"

"Training everyday."

A slightly alarmed look crossed the woman's face. Her eyes once again appraised Videl before she looked back to Vegeta. "Training like a Saiyan would train?"

The look on Vegeta's face was answer enough.

"That explains it then." The woman pursed her lips as if thinking. "You're not asking me to heal her then? You want me to improve her. Am I right?"

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. "The rumors on this planet say you are the best. If there is anything that needs to be done concerning the restructuring of bodies, it is said that you can do it. I want to know if it is possible to make her body more durable..."

"More like yours." The woman supplied with a bitter smile.

Vegeta said nothing.

The woman looked at Vegeta carefully before she looked back down to the girl on the table. "How old are you, dear?"

Videl who had remained silent turned her gaze to the woman. "I don't know."

The woman blinked in surprise at the indifference in the girl's voice.

The woman looked to Vegeta for clarification. He elaborated for her. "She was abandoned. I found her. Her age would be close to fifteen or sixteen on her planet. But there is no exact way to tell."

The woman let out a low sigh as she glanced down at the information presented before her. She looked slowly back up into Vegeta's gaze. "You want to make her bone structure just as strong as a Saiyan's then?

"Can it be done?"

The woman smiled and a flash of arrogance flitted briefly through her yellow eyes. "I can make her stronger."

Vegeta raised a doubtful eyebrow.

The woman continued speaking completely ignoring Vegeta's doubt. "I must warn you though, the process is extremely painful and the healing time takes about a year. That is a long time for a warrior, I understand. If she undergoes this process the two of you will need to stay on this planet so I can monitor her. She cannot train at _all _during that time. Also, because the process is so evasive, her bones will stop growing. She will remain the same height for the rest of her life. I can stretch her bones first though, seeing as how she is so short as it is. Bone stretching actually hurts more than reinforcing them. But at least she will be a normal height."

"It will make her structure more durable, though?" Vegeta persisted.

The woman laughed. "Her bones will be made out of some of the strongest material in the universe. Durable, indeed. If for some reason she does break a bone, which would take a phenomenal amount of force, the protein we use binds in such a way to the bones it will actually heal the same way as her bones did before. The process will be more than worth it."

"How long is one of your years?"

"Our years last about 449 days. Our days are relatively short on the galactic scale."

That was all Vegeta needed to hear. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. All the training he had put Videl through would not be wasted. The woman continued speaking. She moved closer to Videl and began to inspect her skin by lifting her arm.

"I can do more than strengthen her bones, though. I noticed how scarred her skin is compared to yours. She almost doesn't look female because of it. It is possible to make her skin smooth and beautiful. I think because your skin is naturally thicker, not to mention, Saiyans in general seem to heal much quicker than other species that you do not have such scarred skin. I can make her skin just as resilient and regenerative as yours."

Vegeta stepped forward. "How?"

The woman continued to inspect the rest of Videl's body. "We begin by scraping the top layers of skin off then use a laser and a variety of chemicals to the fade the scars. After new skin grows, we then cover the skin with a carbon-based…goo. Then within that goo we place… well… the closest word for it would be bacteria. They infuse themselves within the goo and become part of the skin. They work as a kind of parasite. This bacterium has remarkable regenerative properties and is relatively harmless to the host. It will coat her entire body with a kind of hardened form of skin. We would do this after we reinforce her skeletal structure."

"Will it change her appearance?"

The woman looked up at Vegeta as she set Videl's arm down. "Other than removing all of her scars, no. All other subjects who have undergone a similar procedure retained the color and look of their skin."

Vegeta looked down to Videl who was watching him carefully. There was no fear in her eyes, just her strange calm.

He looked back up at the woman. "When can you begin?"

The woman glanced between Vegeta and Videl, her eyes coming to rest upon the prince. "We can begin tonight."

* * *

***

"This is some of the finest work I have ever seen."

Bulma tilted her head to the side admiring the way the bracelet sparkled in the light. "They are real diamonds then?"

The jeweler before her remained hunched over examining each individual stone. His baldhead shined dully in the light. "Oh, yes. The cut is exquisite, done by a true master, and the way they capture light… it is very rare to find such a beautiful stone let alone an entire bracelet worth. You are a very lucky woman to have something so perfect in your possession."

A slight smiled lightly, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, this bracelet does not actually belong to me."

This surprised the jeweler enough to straighten his back and look at Bulma in surprise. "A friend's, perhaps?"

"No, I'm not sure exactly. A… friend of mine found it upon the ground. When we saw it we thought that whomever this bracelet belonged to would miss it."

"With out doubt." The jeweler agreed earnestly. "It is a true piece of art. It is very kind of you not to take it as your own."

"I was wondering," Bulma continued, "if it would be possible for you to pinpoint the jeweler who made this bracelet then perhaps it would be possible to find the original owner."

The jeweler reached over to a box and pulled out several very small magnifying glasses. He picked through them choosing the right magnification before holding it up to the bracelet. Very slowly he began to inspect each angle. After a few minutes in which Bulma was completely ignored the man stood straight once again his forehead furrowed.

"There is a small inscription on upon the side. It is definitely a signature of the jeweler who made it, but I am afraid that this particular woman is dead."

"A woman made this?"

The man nodded his head as he began to put away his magnifying glasses. "Yes, she was one of the best. Very young and talented – I imagine if she had lived longer she would have been one of the best in the world. This bracelet is just a testament to that."

Despite herself, Bulma was intrigued. "What happened to her?"

The jeweler raised an amused and slightly sympathetic eyebrow. "You may remember hearing about it. It was all over the news when it happened. Very big deal at the time." He paused as if allowing time for Bulma's memory to connect. He continued as confusion settled itself upon her face. "Videl Satan was found brutally murdered."

"Videl Satan..." Bulma repeated slowly. Her eyes widened, remembering. "I do remember that. It was brought up in the news a few years ago actually… wait! Wasn't she Hercule's wife?"

The man nodded. "You do remember then? The fact that Hercule married her was only publicized after the Cell Games. If I remember correctly though, he was the main suspect for a while… in the murder, I mean. They thought he was after his wife's money."

"She was an heiress to a several diamond mines, wasn't she?" Bulma furrowed her forehead, a kind of dread weighing down upon her gut. "Did Hercule get the money?"

The man nodded his head. "He did and he spent nearly every dime of it looking for his daughter. That alone pretty much eliminated him as a suspect."

"Hercule has a daughter?"

"Maybe," the jeweler shrugged, "she hasn't been found yet. She was with her mother the night she was murdered. I think she had the same name as her mother if I remember correctly… or something close to it."

Something flashed in the back of Bulma's mind but it was gone so quickly she could barely grasp it. "Do they think she is alive? The little girl, I mean."

"Well," the jeweler leaned on the counter thoughtfully, "my memory of it is a little rusty. I only paid attention to it because I knew Videl personally and was impressed by her work. But, there was blood found at the murder scene that belonged to the little girl. So it is hard to say, chances are that she probably was killed as well."

Bulma was not really sure what to think of this information she had been given. It was as if this trip had given her more than she had bargained for. She looked down at the bracelet once more. The gleaming of it seemed strangely more beautiful than before.

"So is there still any chance of finding the owner of this bracelet?"

"I don't think there ever was an actual owner."

Bulma was confused. "What?"

"Well," the man continued simply, "the night of the murder, Videl had with her several pieces of her collection that she was to showcase the next day. When they found her dead all of the jewelry was missing. I don't even think it ever occurred to Videl to bring along a bodyguard. She was a very accomplished fighter, you see… almost as good as her husband, and must have figured she could take on anything that would threaten her, her daughter, or her work. I am willing to bet this bracelet was actually part of the collection that was stolen that night."

"So she was robbed and murdered, then?"

The jeweler shook his head. "Raped too. "

Bulma's face dropped as her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

The jeweler's eyes widened at the look on Bulma's face. "Perhaps we should not discuss the details of it."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm the one who is bringing it up. I would just like to know what happened to her."

"Unfortunately," the jeweler smiled sympathetically, "there isn't much of a happy ending. The murderers were never found and the little girl is still missing. As far as I know, Hercule is wasting his fortune looking for her still. It is one big mystery as to what exactly happened that night."

The diamond bracelet twinkled up to Bulma. "What does finding this bracelet mean then?"

The man shrugged. "I suppose the detectives that were working on the case would love to have it as evidence. They would want to know where your friend found it the bracelet. In my opinion, though, it would just reopen old and very painful wounds. Most likely this bracelet would lead them to a dead end."

"Would you suggest turning it into the authorities, then?"

He shook his head. "I doubt the authorities would even know what to do with it. If you do anything with it, I would suggest giving it to Hercule, if you give it to anybody. He is the man with money and power and if he can't find the people who murdered his wife then I don't know who could. Besides, it may be one piece of his wife he may want back."

Bulma smiled politely at the jeweler as she collected the bracelet and left his store giving him a polite goodbye. The bracelet in her hand felt much heavier than she wanted to admit; it held far more weight she wished to carry.

* * *

***

The first night she screamed.

It was not Vegeta's style to linger but it was guilt that made him stay.

Despite the drugs that flooded through her veins easing away some of the pain and making her paralyzed, Videl still felt every bone break. Each crack was accompanied with a scream. Vegeta could not help but to flinch at each one.

The doctors and nurses pulled her bones apart. Spacers were then placed to hold them so. This was done to both of her arms and legs. As the last bone was stretched her tortured gaze rose to meet his. The blue eyes burned.

She was placed in a rejuvenation chamber. One night was all it took for Videl's bones to fill in the space between the pieces that had been pulled apart. When she arose from the rejuvenation chamber and the spacers removed she stood the same height as Vegeta. However, she could not stand upon her own legs for much longer.

The next day the doctors began injecting her bones with synthetic proteins. The process to make her bone structure stronger was physically weakening her. A symptom, the doctor guaranteed was very common. She would gain her strength back as soon as the injections were completed. Until then, she was just as weak as her human heritage suggested she should be. Other than the times when she was eating or bathing, she slept. It was disgusting to watch.

Vegeta did not stay to watch her in the beginning. He spent these months training. He pushed himself harder and harder so he would not have to think or feel anything short of rage because he refused to allow himself to feel worry. He did not want to think what would happen if for some reason the procedure failed, if for some reason Videl did not make it. Those were feelings he refused to confront and he hoped that he would never have to.

* * *

***

She was frantic with rage.

"He took Goten! He took my baby!"

Bulma had been met with a furious Chichi upon entrance to her office at Capsule Corporation. She had walked into work, bewildered to meet her enraged friend.

Bulma closed the office door behind her sending the queen mother a perplexed look. "What are you talking about?"

Chichi's chest was heaving with anger. A few stray strands of hair had fallen out of her usually impeccably styled bun making her look slightly crazed as she marched toward Bulma with her fists clenched. Bulma felt slightly intimidated as Chichi leaned menacingly close to her.

"That green bastard took my son! First he took my Gohan and now he took my baby! My Goten! He will not corrupt him like he did Gohan. I refuse to allow it!"

Bulma was still trying to catch on. "The green bastard? Are you talking about Piccolo?"

"Yes!" Chichi screamed, oblivious or simply uncaring to Bulma's confusion. "And," she stuck a painful finger into Bulma's ribcage, "it is _your_ husband's fault!"

"My husband?" Anger mixed in with Bulma's confusion. "Vegeta isn't even on the planet. What could your problem possibly have to do with him?"

Chichi let out a low growl. "Piccolo told me Vegeta requested that he train both my son and yours. He took away my baby without my permission. He has no right…" Chichi kept ranting, the crazed look in her eye becoming more prominent as her words progressed. Bulma stopped listening, her mind was caught on something else Chichi had said.

It was Bulma's turn to become frantic. She grabbed Chichi's shoulders with enough force to surprise Chichi out of rage. "Both our sons? Did you say both of our sons?"

Chichi leaned away from Bulma, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. Her face suddenly hardening as realization dawned. "Yes, both of them."

Bulma released Chichi's shoulders and swiftly crossed the room to her phone. Her fingertips shook as she immediately called home.

"Mom," Bulma demanded into the phone, "let me speak to Trunks."… "What do you mean he's not there?"…"Where is he?"... "You were supposed to be watching him!"… "No, never mind!"

She slammed the phone back down upon the receiver, her entire body shaking with rage. Her emotions twirled and her rage directed at everything. She keep her head lowered and eyes closed as she breathed deeply through her nostrils attempting to calm herself enough to think straight. Very slowly she looked back up at Chichi who stood much more calmly on the other side of the office, her black eyes shining with understanding.

The women held the silence between them like an impossible burden; a mutual but ugly understanding. Bulma broke the silence, her blue eyes narrowing with determination. "What are we going to do?"

Chichi shook her head. Her long mouth pursing into a thin line. "I don't think there is anything we can do."

It was not Chichi's nature to give up so easily and Bulma knew that. "Have you spoken to Gohan?"

"I have."

"And…?" Bulma grabbed the front of the desk feeling the weight of dread push down more heavily than before.

"My son," Chichi started out venomously, her delicate hands clenching into fists, "has it in his head that the boys' training is important and has decided not to go after them. He told me that there was no better care than Piccolo. He seemed decided to the fact that their training was necessary to the future."

"The future?" Bulma scoffed.

"Some menace, Gohan seems determined, that will present themselves."

"Does Gohan know something we don't know?"

Chichi shook her head. "Doubtful. He is just being paranoid."

"Maybe his Saiyan side is shining through."

Chichi did not like this. Her black eyes flashed. "Dende forbid that day."

Bulma did not respond to this but looked out the window of her office. She clenched her hands suddenly, her nails digging painfully into her palms. "I can't believe Vegeta would do something like this."

It took a moment for Chichi to catch on but her response was no less cynical. "Really?"

Bulma looked back toward her dark haired friend. The women held each other's gazes before Bulma let out a sharp laugh. "I suppose not. Though I do have a hard time believing Gohan is okay with it."

Chichi was reluctant to answer."You and me both. He seems to have picked up your husband's mentality about training. When he is not in court he is out in the damn desert doing who knows what, almost obsessively. You should see how beat up he is when he comes home at night. The court physician is actually starting to worry. Imagine trying to explain that. It is worse trying to hide it from the public. Gohan doesn't seem to care. He won't stop training. So lately, his opinion about Trunks and Goten's training does not really surprise me."

"You are not happy about that." Bulma observed, sitting down in her desk. Her legs felt weak.

Chichi gave a wry smile. "No. I never dreamed for my sons to become fighters, you know that. I never wanted that life for them. But… oh it doesn't matter. Anyway, I have assumed more diplomatic duties to make up for Gohan's absence in court. That doesn't really bother me though, but something has Gohan… well, I suppose the best word for it would be restless."

"Restless?" Bulma repeated. "Why?"

Chichi shook her head. "No, idea. But it is bothering me. Gohan has never been one to worry for worrying sake."

"Do you think that is part of the reason he is training so much?"

"Possibly, possibly not. What I am most concerned about right now though is getting our boys back from Piccolo."

Bulma shook her head. "I don't think we will as much as I don't like to admit it. The only person on this planet that could possibly challenge Piccolo is Gohan... and they seem to be in an agreement with each other."

Chichi lowered her head breathing out deeply through her nose. "I am sorry to have barged into your office today, Bulma." She raised her dark eyes to look intently into Bulma's bright blue ones. "It seems as if we will be needing each other to get through this."

Bulma bit her lip as she watched her friend turn quietly on her heel and walk out of the office.

* * *

_*********************_

_*********************_

_A/N: So there was some minor complaint that Gohan and Videl need to meet sooner. Well I would do that but then I would ruin the whole story. I learned that the hard way. Rushing is not good. Patience is a virtue even if it is difficult to maintain. I am actually becoming pissed at the story, but you know, sometimes these things write themselves and certain dynamics must be established before other dynamics can even begin to work. I want them to meet soon though, I think we are all in agreement about that. Also, I am wondering how everybody is fairing reading this. I know a large population of the traffic on this website have the attention span of gerbils. Me included. Do I need to simplify anything for anybody? _

_Thank you to all you lovely reviewers. Your input was much appreciated and will be appreciated once again if you feel so inclined. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**ljv**

* * *

_Never interfere with an enemy that is in the process of committing suicide._

_-Napoleon Bonaparte_

_***_

Nearly the entire planet was city. There was no escape from people, the buildings, the noise, or the movement, simply the endless chaos. The only places that offered any silence were the places that were uninhabitable. Vegeta found escape in the volcano fields of the planet; where the heat reached upward as if to devour him and the red sparks spurt angrily from below. Despite the hostility this was one of the few places that offered any kind of peace upon this planet.

When he was not training within the gravity chamber, he found the torment of this place comforting. He knew well enough nobody was fool hardy enough to come very close to the volcano fields. He took solace in this isolation and despised the thought of it be disrupted.

Then he felt it; an energy racing toward him, much stronger and quicker than anything the inhabitants of this planet had to offer. Though Vegeta was fairly certain he outmatched the energy coming toward him in strength and in speed, he went on the defensive. He knew better than to assume too much.

It did not take long before the energy became a dot in his vision. It took less time still for this dot to become the form of a man. The man slowed the closer he came to Vegeta until he came to a complete stop before the prince.

Silently both men studied each other. Finally the stranger spoke. It took Vegeta a moment to recognize his native tongue. The stranger spoke Saiyago flawlessly.

"So the rumors were true. Prince Vegeta, alive and in the flesh. I never thought I would see the day."

Vegeta shifted answering in the Earthling tongue, his voice more of a demand than a question. "Who are you?"

The man's one good eye widened slightly before a gentle smile spread across his scarred face, twisting it horrendously. He still used Saiyago. "Forgive me, my prince." Vegeta tensed at the title as the man continued speaking, lowering his head in a way that was supposed to portray respect. "How very rude of me. I am Paragus, Saiyan warrior Elite."

A shock ran through Vegeta's body. He then studied the man more fully until his eyes came to rest upon the tail that was wrapped securely around his waist proclaiming the truth of the stranger's statement.

Vegeta then asked the only question that was able to come to his mind through the shock. "What do you want?"

Paragus raised his eye. "I have come here in search of you; Prince Vegeta, son of King Vegeta, and heir to the Saiyan Empire."

"Your grandeur formalities are wearisome."

Paragus did not seemed deterred by Vegeta's annoyance. He continued speaking. "I declare that I am loyal above all else to the Saiyan Empire and the family Vegeta who I will serve with my own life."

Vegeta threw his head back not all impressed. "The family Vegeta and the Saiyan Empire have been destroyed. You are a man proclaiming service to nothing more than a memory. Your promises mean nothing to me or to anybody else. If that is all you are here for I suggest you leave now, otherwise what do you want?"

Paragus let the twisted smile fall off of his face as he studied the prince silently. A slight grimace twitched at his lips before he spoke. "I have come here to ask for your help."

When Vegeta did not answer, Paragus continued.

"I managed to escape Vegetasi upon its destruction – though to this day I am not exactly sure how – the story still seems strange to myself. Along with my infant son, Broly, we floated out to the outer territories of the solar system where we were able to live. My son and I then conquered that planet. After that we conquered another planet and have continued doing so for the last twenty years."

Vegeta folded his arms across his chest. "Your story is touching, but I don't care."

Paragus paused as brief anger flitted across his face from Vegeta's insult. Paragus then retained his calm. "I have accumulated nearly one eighth of what use to be part of Saiyan Empire. I have done all of it in the name of the Saiyan race. I have come to you to ask you to rule it and return honor to the Saiyan name."

Vegeta was too surprised to react. This request was strange; almost too strange to trust. Paragus interpreted Vegeta's silence as rejection and hurriedly continued to speak.

"My prince, it is disgraceful the state of our once great empire. Thousands of planets, entire galaxies that were once under Saiyan control are now in shambles. Many of these planets have no clear leader. Hundreds of them are in states of civil and galactic war with each other. If there is ever a time to seize them, it would be now. Any stability they have can be easily destroyed with the right kind of force. They could be controlled."

Vegeta regained the use of his voice. He was not much for patience, especially for the words of pretentious fool. "Why does this concern me? I have no interest in backwater planets' problems or yours. I have my own concerns and in no way am I interested in conquering or continuing to rule a decaying empire."

This Paragus seemed initially shocked by the prince's statement but did not let that deter him from trying to convince Vegeta. "It was once_ your_ empire! Your father and grandfather worked their entire lives at creating and expanding it. You are the only one that can bring it back to greatness. It means everything."

"Not to me."

Paragus did not seem to be expecting this retort. His tactics changed suddenly, so much so, it was disorientating. "You are the strongest Saiyan ever born."

Vegeta let out a sharp mocking laugh as soon as he caught up with Paragus's new tactic. "Flattery will serve you no purpose."

"Take honestly for what is worth."

Vegeta had to admit this Paragus was a good actor. But Vegeta was hardly a fool and Paragus was wearing thin on Vegeta's nerves.

"You are wasting your time and breath. My concerns are not yours. Leave this planet and return to wherever you came from. The Saiyan Empire was destroyed along with its planet and its people. There is nothing left to rule and greater still, there is nothing left_ worth_ ruling."

Anger flashed across Paragus's face briefly before he controlled it into a sincere plea. "I heard by rumor that you were on this planet. Despite the rumors possibility of being false, I sought you out despite great personal risk. I did it because I believed that you would wish to restore all that Frieza took away from the Saiyan's. I thought you of all people would revenge the Saiyan name and return honor to the memory of its people."

Vegeta tightened his fists. "The Saiyan's were revenged upon Frieza's death. A Saiyan defeated him in battle and my own child killed him. The Saiyan honor has already been restored."

Paragus's eye widened, a new kind of energy taking hold of him. "So the other rumors are true? You have an heir?"

Vegeta did not respond immediately, reprimanding himself for even mentioning Trunks. He suddenly became very wary of the strange glint in Paragus's eye.

Finally, Vegeta responded. "What rumors?"

"Rumors of the girl that is traveling with you." Paragus paused to gauge Vegeta's reaction. "Too young to be a mate, protected enough to be offspring, coloring similar to a Saiyan's, but eyes light enough to suggest mixing of another race. There would be no reason to bring along a girl with you unless she was offspring or a mate. Since she is not that latter…"

Vegeta did not like this. While the man was confusing the human girl with his own son, it was a dangerous confusion to make. He did not find comfort in the fact his presence was known through out the galaxy. He took even less comfort in that not only was he known, but the girl traveling with him was known about as well. "Where did you hear that?"

"From the residences and visitors of this planet. Having a Saiyan, let alone the Saiyan prince or…." He pause momentarily as if to test the word, "princess, on your planet is never pleasing news to its inhabitants. You should know that; we are still rightfully feared. Our reputations precede us more often than not. Many are afraid we might go ape and _rip_ their planet to pieces. But," Paragus added with a probing pause, "there are more rumors that you no longer have your tail and the girl traveling with you is lacking hers as well."

Vegeta did not feed into Paragus's curiosity. He felt very sick. Instead of answering, he made to turn away more than willing to get away from this conversation. Paragus's voice stopped him; his words carrying a new urgency.

"Your daughter, she is not very old?"

Vegeta considered the pros and cons of answering the question deciding upon the one that would discourage Paragus the most. "She is young."

Vegeta poised himself to fly away. The scouter over Paragus's eye began to beep.

Words flew hurriedly out of Paragus's mouth before Vegeta could shoot off into the skies. "I have son… Broly has not been able to find an adequate mate."

Vegeta paused as he glanced over his shoulder, disgusted by the implication behind the intruder's words. "Do not seek me out ever again…and stay away from my daughter."

* * *

***

She was getting use to this.

Injections made into every bone four times a day. It was to the point where she could not tell the difference between pain and living. No pain medication was permitted. The chemical reaction between the proteins introduced to her bones and the pain medication could potentially kill her. She bared the pain to stay alive. But she was still expected to scream. However, that wasn't her style. The doctors and nurses that visited her everyday were astounded at her threshold of pain; perhaps even afraid.

If she closed her eyes and listened, she could hear the whispers.

"_What is she?"_

_"I've seen grown men reduced to tears by this procedure."_

_"I don't know. I heard she was the daughter of…" _and the whispers would become even quieter here, _"the Saiyan prince. Prince Vegeta."_

_"Impossible! A Saiyan princess? Why would a Saiyan need to have this procedure done? They have some of the most durable skeletal structures ever recorded."_

_"I don't know for sure, but think about it. There are not many Saiyan's left. She might be a half-breed. They can't be as picky anymore about breeding as they use to be. I remember the days half-breed Saiyans that were killed upon discovery. Now Saiyans would have to take whatever is available – not very many left, are there? The girl looks Saiyan but she looks like something else too. Who knows what traits could have been dominant. She could be more like whatever species her mother was."_

_"You're full of it. She doesn't even have a tail!"_

_"Well Saiyan's aren't very popular anymore, are they? A lot of races harbor hard feelings toward the Saiyan race. They have plundered their fair share of planets in their day. They use to be feared, but now look at them- they are a joke. They don't even have their own planet anymore. The prince doesn't even have his own tail! Cutting it off might be a way of hiding what they really are."_

_"I've seen her medical file." _The other voice would hiss is a shamed, low whisper. _"It says she is a… hunan, human or something like that. Apparently the Saiyan prince found her abandoned and adopted her. Besides, her ki reading is far to low to be a Saiyan."_

There would be a scoff. _"Have you ever even heard of a human race? Ever? Before she came here, there was nothing in the archives about the human race and this is one of the most extensive catalogues in the galaxy. Humans, ha! Probably made up. Do you really think a Saiyan would feel enough compassion to take a weak orphan of a completely different species under their care? Unlikely. She has to be related to him somehow. Saying she is human is probably just a way to protect her identity. A Saiyan princess is a valuable commodity, even if she is a half-breed; a rarity that many would pay a pretty penny for. An exotic collector's item. Besides, you've seen the way the girl handles pain. Her strength must be hidden somehow. There is no other explanation for it. This procedure should be killing her according to her ki level, but she is still alive."_

_"You've thought a lot about this."_

_"Don't look at me like that! Saiyans are dangerous. I don't trust them. It pays to be prepared."_

Then there would be another mutter from Videl's own mouth.

"_Paranoid."_

* * *

***

"Sire, you are listening?"

Gohan jumped, blinking his eyes blurrily awake, looking up hurriedly to his advisor. "Excuse me."

The man who had spoken did very little to hide his displeasure. "A martial arts tournament, sir. We have been discussing it for the last ten minutes. We will host it as an act of good will toward other countries. It will be a step toward establishing friendly relations to every country around the world and establishing you as our…king." He said the last part with a bitter smile.

Gohan ignored it and glanced to his mother who sat silently by his side. She gave him a warning glance before he adverted his gaze away from her. He looked back to the man who had spoken. "You are my public relations advisor, Samuel. You have my approval on this matter if you believe it is for the best."

Samuel smiled politely. "Very good, sire. We will invite the best fighters from around the world." Gazes were then directed toward Hercule who sat three chairs over from Gohan. "Hercule, would you approve of such tournament?"

Hercule looked at the advisor confused. "King Gohan has given his approval. I will second it if that is what you are looking for."

The advisor smiled cheerily. "I was hoping to promote the tournament in your honor. With you being the strongest man on the planet, it is fitting that you are the central fighter in this tournament."

Hercule glanced over at Gohan before he spoke. As he looked away from the king his look of concern disappeared and turned a wide charming smile. "It would be a great honor."

Gohan very quickly agreed. "It would be a great honor for all parties, I think."

The advisors around the table let out a satisfied mumble.

Gohan glanced down at his watch. He should have been training ten minutes ago. He raised his gaze to meet his mother's piercing black one. He ignored her as he gazed complacently about the men sitting around him. "Are there anymore matters to be brought to the table? I wish to bring this meeting to an end."

The men about the table glanced at each other but did not question Gohan's polite command.

"No, sire. Nothing pressing."

Gohan nodded, rising quickly. "This meeting is adjourned. Good day, gentlemen."

He then turned to move swiftly out of the room. His mother's voice slowed him. "Gohan, walk with me."

While Gohan was king, Chichi was still his mother. His entire body itched to be training, but he waited patiently as his mother was helped from her chair and walked gracefully over to him. She hooked her arm within his as if securing him to her like an anchor. They moved slowly out of the room.

As the door closed behind them, Chichi began to speak, her voice a calm accusation. "There are rumors circulating among court, Gohan."

Whenever Chichi wished to speak to him, it usually was not because of good news.

"There are always rumors." Gohan reprimanded lightly. "There is nothing to be done about that."

Chichi's hold tightened on her son's arm, her cold persistence remaining. "Rumors that my son, instead of ruling the country he is King of, is out all night chasing girls and partying. Living in excess, child like indulgence…not very kingly qualities, my son."

Gohan felt his chest tightened. He kept his voice quiet, wary of the ears within the walls. "You know those rumors aren't true, mom."

Chichi smiled at a passing lady in the hallway. As soon as the woman was out of earshot, she resumed speaking. "True or not, the only real things are what people perceive. Things never are as they are really. Things are only as people view them. The country, the entire planet views you as an extravagant playboy – a child, with too much power, making that misperception more of a truth than were you really do."

Anger pushed dully upon Gohan's mind. "I train everyday, mom. You know that. I wish I had the time and luxury to be _extravagant_."

"Don't get sharp with me, young man. You understood completely the responsibilities when you agreed to become King. Abandoning your duties in order to train everyday like a mad man was not part of your job description."

"Training is my duty." Gohan snapped so sharply that a maid who was cleaning the windows jumped in surprise and then very quickly scurried away leaving the long hallway empty except for them. He lowered his voice, forcing it to be calmer. "This planet needs my power. If a dark power presents itself, who will be there to protect the people on this planet."

"This dark power," Chichi scoffed, completely ignoring Gohan's question, not bothering to hide her voice "you are certain will present itself, then? I am curious as to how you would know such a thing."

Gohan had nothing to say to that. In truth, there was no concrete evidence to support his suspicion. All he had was a feeling, but that was hardly enough to justify his training or to satisfy his mother.

"I will continue training. No matter what."

Chichi poked Gohan in the rib where he had injured himself a week before. He let out a low pained hiss.

His mother continued speaking. "You're a public figure, Gohan. When you get hurt, it is headline news. An injured king does not inspire confidence within the people he leads. Every night you are coming home with injuries that should kill a normal human being. Perhaps it is no big deal to you, but you do not have to explain to the doctors or to the court why your son is covered in bruises and cuts."

"Then don't." Gohan responded sharply. "It is not any of their business."

"It_ is_ their business when the King cannot even stay awake long enough to sit through a meeting with his advisors about how to govern the country they live in."

Gohan opened his mouth to respond and then quickly closed it again.

Chichi was not done. "You are seen as too young and too incompetent to be ruling this country."

His mother's bluntness of infuriating. "Is that what you think, mom?"

Chichi paused mid-step as she turned to look at her son. Gohan stopped as well but adverted his gaze feeling much too angry.

Her voice suddenly became very tender. "Gohan, look at me."

Slowly, he did as he was told. The expression on his mother's face surprised him. The sun hit her pale skin making it glow and there was a kindness there he had not seen since his father had died.

The sincerity of her eyes was burning. "I know you are more than capable of being a good king and a good leader to your people. I have seen what you are capable of. But I also think that you are taking upon yourself too many responsibilities. Savior of the earth and king of one of the most powerful countries on the planet is not an easy double life to lead and I don't think you should have to."

Gohan eyed his mother suspiciously barely controlling his voice from becoming defensive. "What are you suggesting?"

"Either you be the king you promised to be or you become the phantom hero you think you need to be." Chichi reached to gently touch Gohan's face. "But not both. It will destroy you otherwise."

Overwhelming emotion flooded through his body. Gohan curled his lips over his teeth as he focused his gaze upon the ceiling above trying to repress the emotions from showing through. "It is my responsibility to…"

Chichi cut him off, "No, it isn't. Look at me. I should have never allowed you to become King at such a young age. That was my responsibility to rule, not yours. At the time I could not emotionally handle such a position, but things are different now. Ruling this country should have been a responsibility that you never had to bare. Perhaps someday it will be yours, but not now."

It took him a moment to comprehend what his mother was saying. When it hit, Gohan's eyes widened. "Are you asking me to give up my crown to you?"

Chichi nodded silently, the tenderness in her eyes mixed in with burning determination.

The world suddenly seemed much lighter. Momentarily, everything that felt so heavy and dark suddenly disappeared. Gohan let out a sharp laugh that was more disbelief than acceptance.

Chichi smiled up at her son. "I haven't seen you smile like that in a while."

Very suddenly he wrapped his arms around his mother, hugging her closely to him. His voice was almost too quiet to be heard by her ears. "Thank you."

Chichi, who was initially shocked, responded by wrapping her arms around her son holding him as close to her as she could. She knew just how easily a loved one could slip from a hold, no matter how tight she might grasp.

* * *

***

It was not for lack of trying. For indeed, Bulma searched the entire planet for Trunks and Goten with the best of her resources, but no matter where she looked, it seemed as if she had just missed them each time. First the islands in the South Seas, then the deserts of the west, then the colds ice-lands of the north; every time she came up empty.

Now she screamed up into the trees above her in uncontrollable frustration. Her search had led her to the most remote and dangerous jungles on the planet. Her satellite had pick up unusual and sporadic energy spike in this area and she wasted no time. Once again it seemed as if she had just missed them.

Bulma hated that she was weak; she hated that no matter how much smarter she was than the fighters of Earth, that she could not defeat them.

She punched the tree closest to her with all of her might. She felt no pain even as she heard the bones in her hand crunch.

"You probably shouldn't do that. You are going to hurt yourself if you haven't already."

Bulma turned around violently. Immediately her eyes narrowed. "I want my son back."

Piccolo arched his brow. "Not until I have finished training him."

It did not matter to Bulma that Piccolo was thousands of times stronger than she was. Bulma was beyond murderous and she wanted his blood.

"You had no right to take my son away from me you green bastard. Give him back now!"

Piccolo leaned casually against a tree watching Bulma thoughtfully. "I will not. I made a promise to Vegeta that…"

"Never mind Vegeta! He is not here! I am."

Piccolo furrowed his forehead upon being interrupted. "I promised to train his son, and I am good on my word despite your displeasure."

Desperation stung at her eyes. "You can't do this!"

"No amount of tears or pleas will get me to retract my promise I made to Vegeta. But I still can offer you one kindness."

"Oh, yeah." Bulma spat angrily. "A hug?"

Piccolo barely fought back the smirk tugging at his lips. "Hugging really isn't my thing."

Bulma sneered.

He continued. "I will tell you the same thing I told Chichi. Depending on how you take this advice it will either lessen or increase your pain. It is up to you."

When Bulma answered with nothing but her glare, Piccolo continued. "Quit searching. No matter how fast you chase, we are faster. When the time is right, you will get your son back. But only when they have completed their training."

Bulma was not ready to give up. "This training is crap! Absolute bullshit! There is no point. You and Gohan are more than strong enough to protect this planet. Leave my son out of it!"

Piccolo considered this silently. "I understand that this might be difficult for you to hear or to accept, but the strength of not only your son but Goku's son as well, if not harnessed and controlled correctly could be devastating. Both boys must learn to control it."

Bulma's face twisted into a venomous sneer. "I hate you… and I hate Vegeta."

* * *

***

Videl had been released from the hospital. All procedures were completed but under doctor's orders she was still supposed to be resting, not allowed to leave the confines her bed for any reason at all. She had not lasted more than a thirty minutes doing this.

Vegeta had found her in the control room of their ship, which was currently landed on a hover air hanger with several other ships giving them an excellent view of the massive city below. She leaned her shoulder against the wall as she looked out the window thoughtfully. Vegeta could not help but notice the way the profile of her face contrasted to the light filtering through the window.

"You are supposed to be resting."

She did not turn to look at him, it seemed for a moment as if she had not heard him at all. It took her a moment to respond. "I did not feel like resting."

"You are weak."

Videl raised her gaze to look at Vegeta before she looked back out the window overlooking the city once more. She did not seemed particularly affected by his statement, instead her mouth pursed into a thoughtful line. She leaned more evenly on the wall folding her arms across her chest, her gaze never leaving the city below.

"So I've heard." A small smirk curved along her lips. "Something about having a nearly unreadable ki. The doctors are not sure how I am alive."

Vegeta who leaned on the opposite wall smirked. "You've been eavesdropping."

She glanced at him impishly before looking back out the window.

"Regardless," Vegeta reprimanded,"you should be resting."

Videl raised her hand and Vegeta watched as light began to appear there to form a very bright ki ball. It was still disorientating to Vegeta not to be able sense her energy.

"I don't feel weak." She let the light dissipate from her hand as he lowered her arm. "Even though everybody seems determined to declare otherwise."

Vegeta became much more serious. "People only know things as they see them, not as they are. Rightfully so. You seem weaker than usual."

"Well," Videl began slowly, "I'm not... weaker than usual."

"Is that so?" Vegeta questioned darkly. "Of all the times I have been able to sense your ki, it has never been as low as it is now."

A slow satisfied smile spread across Videl's face. "You can't sense it at all, can you?" She tilted her head to gain a more even view of him. "Almost like I am not really here at all."

Vegeta paused, his forehead furrowing. "Are you hiding your ki on purpose?"

Videl shrugged. "Sure."

A annoyed growl passed Vegeta's lips. "People only know what they perceive, not as things are. People are going to try and take advantage of you. Exploit what they perceive as your weakness. You are perceived as a weakling already. Lowering your ki will not help matters. It is easy to assume that you are weak even if we know otherwise."

Videl absorbed this silently her forehead furrowing. "I wouldn't give people the chance to figure out I am much stronger than I seem. I would happily destroy them first."

"Not all opponents can be destroyed or even defeated with brute force."

"Then," Videl looked at Vegeta, her gaze sardonic and smooth, "I will acquire the wisdom of being able to tell the difference between weak fools and strong fools and then, as _you_ so often tell me, pick my own battles."

Vegeta did not like the relaxed way in which she spoke to him. "Watch your tongue, brat. I am your superior."

She smiled lightly at him before looking out the window once more, her amused expression soon giving way into thoughtful frustration.

"I'm starting to feel stronger."

Vegeta nodded. "I can tell. You are no longer confined to that damn bed all day."

"No," she shook her head, "I mean, I don't remember _ever_ feeling this strong." She raised her burning gaze back to Vegeta once more. "I feel… my body has never felt _this_ good before."

"That's because you haven't trained in nearly six months. Your body has had time to heal and rest. You feel stronger than usual. That doesn't mean that you are."

Arrogance sparked through her eyes. "If I were allowed to spar, we could test that theory." Her expression then became much more serious. "But it is more than that. I've always known the moods of my body fairly well, and this is… great."

Vegeta knew going months without training would begin to weaken the body from lack of movement even if the individual felt stronger. But with Videl he could never be sure. There was no exact way get any kind of reading on her ki. So what she was saying could very well be true. Vegeta was hardly one to judge.

He allowed a sharp smirk to take hold of his face, altering the subject. "Girl, we wouldn't want to spar anyway. It would be a shame to ruin your new skin. If your not careful your new vanity may make you weak. Perhaps we will have to scar it all over again."

She did not at all seem intimidated by Vegeta's threat. Instead a genuine smile spread across her face as she unconsciously ran her fingertips down the smooth skin of her arm.

"It is nice… you know… looking like a real person instead of a piece of scar tissue."

Though Vegeta would never admit it out loud, he had to agree. The brat actually looked female and more than that, her looks were even what he would consider to be pleasant. That was a complete shock in itself.

Vegeta had treated her as if she were a boy, spoke to her, trained her, and punished her as if she were male. It was an easy thing to do since she so greatly resembled one. But the months in which she was not allowed to train gave her body the opportunity to develop a kind of softness about her, including the development of her breasts and hips. When her skin was cleared of the scar tissue, the change was even more apparent. The greatest change of all was perhaps the hardest for Vegeta to accept.

He would have to start treating the girl like a girl.

"You are going to need to cut your hair. It is getting too long."

She ran her fingers idly through her hair. Her mouth twisted distastefully at the idea. She made no other objections but turned once again to gaze out the window. That stood in this silence for a while. Then quite abruptly her entire body tensed.

It did not take Vegeta long to figure out why. He felt an energy racing desperately towards them. He let out a low hiss. "I thought I told that fool to leave the planet months ago."

Videl looked at him wide-eyed. "You know this energy?"

He said nothing as he leaned stiffly away from the wall and glared at the skies through the window.

Videl moved away from the window, her body tensing as if preparing to fight. "Is he any threat?"

Vegeta then looked at her as she stood tensely in front of him. He thought of Paragus and of their last conversation. The girl looked suddenly much more vulnerable than she had during the first months of her procedure, which had rendered her useless to her bed.

"I need you to hide."

Her eyes widened. "Who is he?"

"Do as I tell you."

"No. Tell me who this is."

A low growl passed through Vegeta's lips. This was no time for the girl's tenacity. He glared at her.

"Fine, stay here."

"No, I'm coming with you."

The girl was a damn fool. "I don't have the time to argue this with you. If a fight results you will be completely useless and more of a hinderance than a help."

Her mouth twisted but she knew enough not to disagree. She tried again. "Who is it?"

"Nothing for you to worry about." Vegeta glared at the girl. "Stay in the ship and keep your ki low."

He then moved swiftly out of the room before she could protest once more and then out of the ship.

* * *

*********************

*********************

_a/n: it turns out I am going to have to make chapter eight into two parts. It became much longer than I originally thought. In any case, review._

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer

* * *

**

**Chapter 9**

**ljv  


* * *

**

_Speak deferentially, listen respectfully, follow his command, and accord with him in everything. He will never imagine you might be in conflict with him. Our treacherous measures will then be settled._

_Tai Kung, Six Secret Teachings (circa fourth century B.C.)_

*****

Paragus was hardly an opponent worth fighting. Vegeta bulldozed him out of the air before the man even had time to register Vegeta's presence. The prince came in closer of a second attack. He had already given this man fair warning. Then before the punches could begin, came the pitiful, disgraceful begging.

"Please help me, great prince."

Vegeta sneered, his fist a millimeter away from Paragus's nose. He was use to strange men and their motives, but this still unnerved him.

He flew a few feet away from Paragus. "Your begging is hideous."

Vegeta raised his hand as if to blast Paragus away.

His words became quicker then.

"My empire, all that I have worked for has been taken under control."

It took Vegeta a moment to remember this self-proclaimed conqueror. He then let out a curt, derisive laugh. "If you cannot protect _your_ kingdom, you do not deserve to rule it."

Paragus's next words caused Vegeta to freeze.

"A Super Saiyan has taken it."

Vegeta was unsure of what he heard. As far as he knew, there were only two saiyan's left capable of such a feat, Gohan and himself, and neither of them would be interested enough to wreck havoc on a would-be empire.

Vegeta furrowed his brow. "A Super Saiyan?"

"Yes," Paragus continued hurriedly, sensing the prince's interest, "more powerful than anything I have ever encountered. I cannot possibly defeat him. But you are the great Saiyan prince, the last. You are the only one capable of defeating The Legendary."

Vegeta had no interest in helping Paragus, but he was curious enough to wonder about the existence of another Super Saiyan. Then there was the prospect of fighting another Super Saiyan. Vegeta had not honestly had the chance to do so since he had left earth and the idea was more than tempting.

Vegeta lowered his arm. This action set Paragus at ease.

"You will help me then?"

"No."

Paragus's mouth opened wide in disbelief.

"Aren't you interested in fighting him, a Super Saiyan?"

Vegeta did not care to answer the question, did not like the way the man before him threw around the title of Super Saiyan around so easily, as if it were an irresistible treat. Perhaps if he were traveling alone without the girl it would be one thing, but as long as she was with him there would be no point in seeking out enemies.

Vegeta growled at the other Saiyan. "I am not in the habit of giving second chances. Get out of here before I decide to kill you."

Paragus seemed almost willing to comply with Vegeta's demand when suddenly his gaze focused on a point past his shoulder.

"Why can't we help him?"

Vegeta stiffened, recognizing the girl's voice. He let out a low growl not bothering to turn around.

"Brat, get back to the ship."

She flew closer, observing Paragus indifferently. He watched her curiously.

She stopped next to Vegeta, her gaze upon Paragus becoming thoughtful. "I thought you said there were no more saiyans left?"

Before Vegeta could reply, Paragus spoke.

"So this is your daughter then?"

Videl furrowed her forehead but said nothing glancing briefly at Vegeta then back to Paragus.

Vegeta raised his arm again and gathered enough energy to kill Paragus.

Videl looked at Vegeta's arm before repeating her question, not at all concerned, indifferent to whether or not he killed the other man.

"Why can't we help him? I want to see another Super Saiyan."

Vegeta growled, becoming entirely too annoyed.

"Another?" Paragus stuttered. He looked at Vegeta in disbelief, his eyes flashing. "You're a Super Saiyan too?"

"Brat," Vegeta hissed, "expect a beating tonight. Expect an even worse one if you don't get back to the ship _now_."

She turned to look at Vegeta though he did not offer her the same courtesy.

"Fine," she said smoothly, "but I think we should help him. Or at least find the other saiyan." She made as if she were going to fly away and then paused with a slight grin. "It might be… _fun_."

With that she took off toward the direction of their ship. Vegeta could not even sense her energy as she disappeared into the horizon.

Vegeta looked back at Paragus before letting his energy dissipate as he lowered arm. He looked at the man disdainfully. Paragus cringed but held his ground.

Vegeta sneered. "Fine."

Paragus's eyes brightened. "So you'll help me?"

"Never," Vegeta scoffed, "I help myself."

* * *

***

Even at the best of moments, Piccolo was not so inclined to show empathy or practice patience upon anybody else outside of himself. He found himself wondering, as he threw the boys into a lake in order to clean the mud from their bodies, if he should have ever agreed to train the boys at all.

Goten shot out of the lake first with warrior's cry, followed very closely by Trunks. Piccolo had been expecting this and caught each of them by the waist before they could get very far and threw them into the lake again. "Stay down there!"

A great splash and huge waves resulted as the boys hit the water once more. Trunks surfaced a moment later, coughing up water and glaring up Piccolo.

"Hey! That wasn't fair!"

Goten surfaced right after, coughing as well. "That wasn't… very nice, Mr. Piccolo."

"I don't care how much you brats complain. You are going to be clean. I cannot stand your smell."

Both boys looked quizzically up at him. Goten even raised his arm to smell himself, succeeding instead on breathing in some of the lake water resulting in a coughing fit. Trunks began to laugh so hard at this, he breathed in some water as well. Both boys were somewhere between coughing and laughing and Piccolo found it disgusting.

Never before had Piccolo's patience been tried in so many ways. Training Gohan had been one thing. For one, he had been obedient. But these boys were not Gohan. With each day, Piccolo found more reason to despise these two brats. However, for some inexplicable reason, they seemed remarkably found of him.

"Hey Mr. Piccolo," Goten yelled, his coughing subsiding and giving away into laughter, "watch this!"

Lost in his thoughts, Piccolo's eyes widened as a huge wave of water came racing towards him. He hardly had time to react as the entire wave engulfed him, completely drenching him.

He growled out in frustration as he heard the boys' laughter. He cleared the water away from his eyes in time to see two pale naked butts racing away from him and toward the nearest town. Piccolo had barely any time to wonder what they did with their clothes before shooting off after them with a snarl. The little brats knew Piccolo would not use any ki blasts if in range of civilization. He gained considerable ground. Their auras flared as the sped away from him, their laughter trailing along after them. Piccolo increased his speed. They responded by transforming into Super Saiyans.

Piccolo's eye twitched as he raised his power to exceed theirs. He did not know how much longer he would be able to keep up with them. Their powers were, to his estimation, growing at an exponential rate beyond what he believed to be natural. But considering their fathers he was not entirely surprised. It was still, despite the best of reasoning, unnerving.

Their first transformation had been so anti-climatic, the struggle to their transformation so unimpressive that it had disturbed Piccolo. He had known how much Goku, Vegeta, and Gohan had struggled to transform. These boys did it seemingly without effort.

"Get back here!" Piccolo yelled. "And get your clothes back on!"

Trunks said something to Goten that Piccolo could not hear. This annoyed him greatly. Both of the boys had gotten wise to his 'enhanced' abilities and had effectively developed ways to work around them.

Then suddenly both of the boys stopped, turning around to face Piccolo head on. Their pale bodies contrasted sharply to the harsh landscape about them. Piccolo did not stop and barreled into their small bodies, not giving them a chance to act out their plan, whatever it was. He had gotten too wise to the boys' craftiness to wait around and see what they were up to.

This tactic surprised the boys as they both went flying into the ground by the force of Piccolo's blow. He watched them fall with mild contempt, before he heard laughter from behind him.

"Those boys giving you a hard time, Piccolo?"

Piccolo smirked, not looking over his shoulder. "I was wondering when you would leave that desert. Come for a decent spar?"

Gohan chuckled. "I was just checking on my brother's and Trunk's progress."

Piccolo watched the dust clear below, waiting for any sign of the boys. "Can't you sense their energies?"

"I can and I am beginning to wonder if you went too easy on me when you trained me. Their energy levels are phenomenal. How did you manage to get them to become so powerful?"

Before Piccolo could respond, a golden haired Trunks shot through the dust cloud toward Piccolo and Gohan, readying himself to attack. Goten followed closely behind. Both boys stopped short as the sight of Gohan, their eyes wide. Then Goten let out an excited yell and barreled into Gohan's chest, hugging his brother tightly.

"Brother! Have you come to spar with us?"

Gohan looked at his brother with wide bewildered eyes. "You're a…. Super…Saiyan."

Goten beamed at his brother. "So is Trunks! Look!"

Gohan looked over at Trunks who floated an aloof distance away, who too was indeed transformed, watching Gohan with a guarded wary look.

Gohan frowned. "Where are your clothes?"

---

"Super Saiyans," Gohan whispered through the darkness, "how…when did this happen?"

Piccolo who was leaning against a tree kept his eyes locked upon the ground. "Not very long ago; no more than two months. As for how it is possible, I cannot say."

Gohan watched the sleeping forms of his brother and Trunks. "They are strong, there is no doubt about that. But it doesn't even seem as if they have the right amount of base power to complete the transformation." He looked back at Piccolo. "Did they struggle at all?"

"As far as I can tell," Piccolo said, raising his eyes, "no."

Gohan shook his head. "They are such naturals, both of them; Trunks is only seven and Goten even younger. When we were sparring with them today I would have never even dreamed as being as powerful as they are at their age. It's unreal."

Piccolo nodded. "Almost unsettling, but not entirely unexpected. Trunks is Vegeta's son and Goten is Goku's. If either of these boys are anything like their fathers we should be able to expect much more from them."

"The rate their powers is growing is extraordinary. When you came to take Goten he was not even one-tenth of what he is now. I image Trunks is the same."

"I can say the same thing about your current power level." Piccolo responded gruffly. "Not even I can tire those boys out as effectively as you did. I am, at least, tired after sparring with them. You don't appear strained at all."

Gohan smiled modestly. "Perhaps."

"How has your training been going? I fail to see why you are so fond of that desert."

He shrugged, ignoring Piccolo's statement. "Better."

"I happened to read in a newspaper I found that you have given up your crown and power to your mother."

Gohan nodded. "I am still technically the king. It would have been too many formalities otherwise to rid myself of the title. But both my mother and myself decided to implement an age requirement to rule the country. I will not come to age until I am twenty-five. She is ruling in my place."

Piccolo did the math. "That gives you about seven more years then."

"Eight years. I'm seventeen."

Piccolo smirked. "I forget sometimes how young you are."

"In any case," Gohan continued, "it has given me more time to train."

"I've noticed." Piccolo responded.

The younger man raised a questioning eyebrow. "How is that?"

"A power as large as yours is difficult to ignore; especially when you fluctuate it like you do, especially on days on end." Piccolo's face became almost concerned. "It is not like you to train so obsessively."

Gohan looked past Piccolo, a frustrated expression upon his face. "No, it's not."

Piccolo knew Gohan's easy nature; his collected, cool calm and he trusted his student. "What has you so bothered?"

"I just feel…", he struggled for words, "as if something bad is going to happen. I don't know what. And I know there is nothing to suggest that anything is wrong. But I've had the feeling ever since Vegeta left Earth. And I just can't seem to shake it."

"Vegeta has been gone for nearly five years now. That is quite a long time to feel uneasy about anything. Do you think it has anything to do with him leaving the planet?"

Gohan shook his head. "No. At least I don't think so."

Piccolo did not like this. "Trust what you feel. Follow that instinct. It will guide you far more effectively than anything else."

He nodded.

Both men sat silently for a while, listening to the even breathing of the sleeping boys. Piccolo broke the silence.

"Have you reached any new levels?"

Gohan blinked, being drawn from his own thoughts. "I suppose so. Though I don't find this new level very impressive."

"How so?"

The younger man shifted. "Well for one, it is a difficult form to maintain. It drains my energy much to fast to be very effective in battle."

"You've reached a new Super Saiyan form?"

"Well," Gohan allowed with a shrug, "it increases my power level and drastically changes my appearance. But it was very different from my first two transformations. My other transformation came about because of an emotional need. This third transformation came about because of raw power. But I suppose it is another form, yes."

"You plan on exceeding it." Piccolo stated casually.

"If I can, yes, it is my every intention to find a more powerful level."

Piccolo knew that need; the desire built into every warrior to always excel, become more and more powerful.

"I plan on returning the boys to their mothers."

Gohan blinked, surprised by the change in conversation. "You don't wish to train them anymore then?"

"They are effective and powerful fighters and both still have a lot to learn. But they are also children. I have taken them away from their mothers for two and a half years. That has been long enough."

Gohan nodded his approval. "My mother and Bulma will be very happy to have them back."

"I will take them in the morning. Perhaps you should go and tell them that their sons are coming home so that they will be ready for them."

Gohan smiled at his old mentor. "Sure."

* * *

***

"Brat, never disrespect me."

He found Videl lying silently upon her small bed, her eyes fixed up the ceiling.

She did not look at him as she spoke. "So you are going to help him?"

Vegeta growled. "I have no interest in helping that fool and neither should you."

She stretched so her body was elongated lazily against her bed. "I never wanted to help him. I just want to see another Super Saiyan."

For some reason this disturbed him. "Becoming the legendary warrior of my race is no simple thing and were never meant to be on display, especially to bothersome brats like you."

She turned her head slightly so that her gaze was upon him. "I know that. If that wasn't the case, it wouldn't be worth observing."

Vegeta looked distastefully back at her. "If it were not for the fact that you need to be resting I would blast you into volcanoes of this planet."

She turned away from him, folding her arms across her stomach, her gaze becoming thoughtful. "That man thought I was your daughter."

"He did." Vegeta allowed curtly.

She still did not look at him. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" He spat.

"Think of me as your daughter." She clarified, her gaze returning to his. "Do you?"

Vegeta glared down at her. She had asked him a question that he did not feel he needed to answer. He thought it would have been self-evident.

"Get some sleep brat, we are leaving the planet tomorrow to find you your trinket Super Saiyan."

He slammed her door and he moved to his training room.

* * *

***

"Is the girl healthy enough to leave the planet?"

The orange haired doctor looked at Vegeta curiously before glancing down at the file before her. "She has exceeded all expectations. Her body appears to be completely healed, she has suffered no long-term damage…"

The woman was dancing around the question. Vegeta let out an annoyed growl. "That was not what I asked.

The woman sighed out before raising her gaze to meet Vegeta's. "There are some anomalies in her blood work and I would like to monitor her a little while longer before she leaves."

Vegeta's frown deepened. "Of course there would be anomalies. She is human. You've never seen blood like hers. But that is no reason to keep her around like a lab rat to add data to your pitiful archives. She is healthy. There is no reason in staying here any longer."

She shook her head, her voice exceedingly calm. "That's not what I mean."

"Then what is it exactly that you mean by insisting upon keeping her here? I have no interest on staying on this planet any longer."

The woman looked at Vegeta, reluctant to answer. He saw this and growled once again.

She set the file down on her desk, letting out a low sigh. "Several years ago, Frieza commissioned a team to research and develop a weapon that could drain an opponent of their ki, rendering them essentially useless in battle." The woman paused, gauging the prince's reaction. "I was part of that team."

When Vegeta offered the woman no reaction she continued. "Upon Frieza's … demise, funding and production stopped… but I still have all of the research."

Vegeta considered this. He had encountered weapons on earth that the doctor was describing such as this; Dr. Gero's androids specifically. He had even been on the receiving end of such weapons during his battle with androids Nineteen and Twenty. It baffled him that this planet, with all of its technological advances had been incapable of producing such a device. "Then no weapon was developed?"

"None that was effective."

Vegeta frowned at this. "What does this have to do with the girl?"

"I'm getting to that." For the first time, the doctor looked faintly annoyed. "Frieza wanted to make sure that this device would be effective on nearly every possible life form. So it was my job to find a common denominator…so to speak. And consistently, within every life form's blood, or its equivalent, there was an…organelle that was the source of all energy, no matter the species. It had a remarkable range, being found in all plant life to animal life and everything in between. Essentially, anything that is living, has it. Except," she paused, "for Videl. From what you told about the human species, her lack of ki seems to be unique only to her."

Vegeta folded his arms across his chest. "What are you suggesting?"

A glint made its way into the doctor's eyes that he had often seen in Bulma's when she was in the midst of one of her projects. "It is like she derives all of her energy from some other source. It is quite extraordinary."

"She does have some ki though," Vegeta interrupted, "it is just not very impressive."

"But," the doctor countered, a strange kind of excitement to her, "her strength is. Far more so than her ki suggests it should be. She does have some ki producing cells. But hardly any."

Vegeta furrowed his forehead. "How many different alien races did you sample?"

"Over a thousand. Specifically…" She paused here if uncertain whether or not to continue. "… your blood."

Vegeta blinked, bewildered. "My blood?"

"Yes," the doctor continued, that excited glint in her eye giving way to caution, "Frieza was particularly concerned about you. If there was any species… being he wished to control above all else… it was you."

This unhinged him. "How did you get samples of my blood?"

"When one is in the medical ward for injuries as frequently as you are, it was easy enough. Doctors aboard Frieza's ship routinely sent me samples of your blood. Even your companion… Nappa, was it? … sent me samples of your blood when you were away from Frieza's ship. Though to come to think of it, I doubt he knew why he was doing it. A good soldier that man – adept at following commands without question."

Vegeta thought back to all of his various injuries, he thought back to all the blood he had ever shed.

He spoke through gritted teeth. "What gave you the right to take my blood without my consent?"

The doctor looked at Vegeta calmly. "I will give you apologies now, though I doubt now it makes any difference. At the time, Frieza referred to you as property. You were his to do whatever he pleased. However, that makes you no different from any other person that was subjected to his will. It will do you well to remember that you were not the only one enslaved by him."

He focused very hard on not breaking the doctor's neck. "What did you do with all of my blood?"

The doctor watched Vegeta's face closely as if sensing the dangerous ground she was walking. "Most of it was used precisely for the purpose for detecting the… potential for ki within a person's blood. With Saiyan blood it is quite obvious. Your blood had _the_ greatest number organelles that produce ki out of all of the samples we tested. It was astounding really."

"What about the rest of my blood?"

The doctor blinked. "What?"

"You said most of my blood. What about the rest of my blood? Where did that go?"

She shifted, uncomfortable with the question. "Because the Saiyan race is on the brink of extinction, your entire genetic code was recorded…." She paused looking at Vegeta carefully. "This was done with out Frieza's knowledge. And some of your blood is still in coolers of some of the leading geneticists on this planet."

"For what purpose?"

"Initially…" she hesitated.

"What?" Vegeta barked, losing his patience.

"Initially," she began again, "it was an insurance policy against Frieza. Because the potential of power in your blood was so phenomenal, we believed if anybody could destroy Frieza, it would be a Saiyan."

Vegeta drew the connections fast. "You mean by cloning me!"

The doctor seemed hesitant again. "Not exactly. But rather using your blood as a base to create another Saiyan."

He let out a sharp mocking laugh. "You mean to create a bastard child out of my DNA? Unbelievable. You stupid fool, I have killed people for less. And to think, you were called one of the most brilliant minds on this planet!"

The doctor's eyes widened. Vegeta could sense beginning of fear in her.

He continued. "You have no right to use my DNA to create anything. Nor do you have the right to use the girl's DNA for any of your little experiments."

Vegeta raised his hand and shot a quick ki blast through the doctor's hand. She yelped out in pain and surprise. She shot across the room as far away from Vegeta as she could get.

"Are you crazy?" She yelped, holding her broken hand to her chest, breathing out rapidly. "I helped you! I maintained the knowledge of your race, your kingdom in a way that no written way could! I preformed a surgery upon your daughter that would have killed her if anybody else attempted it. You owe me."

Vegeta raised his hand again and blasted away the file containing all of Videl's information before looking back up at the doctor. He threw the last of the payment for Videl's surgery upon her desk.

"Take this as a warning." He sneered as he stalked out of her office.

* * *

***

It had been two days since they left the planet Almien and had been traveling in space. It would be another five days before they reached Paragus's planet.

The girl was oddly quiet. It was not as though she had been much of a talker before, but there was a distance about her Vegeta was not use to.

Not being able to sense Videl's energy, Vegeta had been surprised to find her standing in the control room of the ship, gazing out through the window into the darkness of space. He had just finished training, anticipating the fight with this so-called Super Saiyan.

He frowned at the sight of her, but did not comment as he walked up to the control panel to check their location and the ship's systems.

"I've already checked everything." She said without turning to look at him, her voice causing him to tense at the suddenness of the sound. In space, sound had a strange eartheral quality to it. "Everything is in excellent order."

Though Vegeta did not doubt her, for her mechanical affinity rivaled that of Bulma's, he checked the control panel anyway.

He turned around to look at her, to some degree disappointed that she was right. "What are you doing still awake?"

Videl shrugged. "I'm not tired."

Vegeta noticed the sag of her shoulders and the wariness of her voice. He could see her face reflected in the window and could make out the bags under her eyes.

"You're lying." Said Vegeta blandly. "Why are you really awake?"

"I just am."

Vegeta raised a single eyebrow. "That's not a good enough answer. And I want you to turn around and look at me when I'm talking to you."

She looked at him briefly through the reflection of the glass before turning around to face him, her mouth in a thin and defiant line. Despite the softness of her tired eyes she looked at him boldly.

"Now," Vegeta continued, "you will tell me why you're not sleeping. And," he added before she could open her mouth, "you're not going to lie to me. I will keep you here as long as I need to."

She glared defiantly at him, but Vegeta was prepared for that. The words he told her had been true. While Vegeta was not known for his patience, he would wait as long as he had too. The girl's well-being was his business.

She finally let out a low sigh. "I've been having dreams."

Vegeta nodded, understanding. He could think of few occasions when he had slept without nightmares. "About what?"

Videl frowned at his. "Memories... I think."

"And they bother you?"

She nodded meeting his gaze with disturbed eyes. "I think there of my..." she struggled with the word, "mother."

"What about your mother?"

"Well," she paused, "I think it's her. But the woman, whoever she is, there is some really bad things happening to her. But the dreams are fuzzy and I don't remember what when I wake up, but every time I feel horrible and... scared."

"You've had this dream often?"

Videl nodded, lowering her eyes. "But there have been others much more vivid. And they are of things I can't possibly know about."

"It is important," Vegeta amended, "to be able to tell the difference between your dreams and reality."

She became defensive. "You think I can't tell the difference?"

"If you consider your dreams to be reality instead of figments of your mind then one would assume you are having difficulty distinguishing the two."

Her gaze hardened. "My dreams are about you."

"It is not uncommon to dream of other people."

"No," she shook her head, "I have dreams about you when you were a little boy standing next to a man that looks like you. I think it is supposed to be your father. He is telling you about the kingdom that you will inherit. But when he shows you, it is nothing but fire."

Vegeta frowned at this, her words striking a strange cord within him. "What else do you dream of."

"Earth. It says it is waiting for us."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "A planet is talking to you?"

"Hey," she snapped, "you asked."

"I did. Anything else?"

She let out another sigh. "There are many things, but none that I can remember well."

Vegeta though of this a little while. "I have encountered many cultures, and all of them have a different take on dreaming and what it means. But I do know that dreams have a way of telling you more about yourself than you would know otherwise. And I don't suggest avoiding them. It won't make them go away. Confront them for what they are."

"And what are they?"

"They are pieces of yourself you need to understand."

"Even the dreams about you?" She challenged.

"Ignore the dreams about me."

She looked at him with perplexed eyes but seemed to know better than to question him about it at that moment.

* * *

***

They gazed at the planet through the windows of their ship.

Videl looked at it distastefully. "It's not a very pretty looking planet, is it? It kinda looks dead, doesn't it?"

She sensed the planet for ki and grinned darkly to herself. She looked at Vegeta. "Some self-proclaimed emperor. They are hardly any life forms down their to rule. What is he... a king of a big rock?"

"Ruling over things means different things to different people. In Paragus's case it means having a lot of real-estate."

Videl extended the range of senses. "I don't feel anybody remotely strong enough to be a Super Saiyan. But," she mused, "I guess that really doesn't mean much."

She looked more closely at the grey planet. "What would somebody with as much power as Super Saiyan want with this planet? It would just be easier to blast the thing away."

Vegeta moved over to the control panel to prepare for landing. "It would be." Vegeta agreed. "We need to be prepared for a trap."

Videl smiled at the thought, dread and excitement filling her. She had spent so much time the past year restricted to a bed that this dangerous kind of excitement was more than welcome even if Vegeta was going to prohibit her from fighting unless absolutely 'necessary'. She was looking forward to the 'necessary'.

She moved over to her seat and buckled in. "Well, it's rude to linger."

Vegeta glanced at her with knowing disapproval as he too buckled in and pressed the right buttons to commence landing.

* * *

*****

_A/N: I'm a bad person for taking so long to update... I know._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**ljv**

**A/N: It's been a long time since I've come around…**

* * *

Videl remembered standing on the edge of her own oblivion; staring death in the face.

She had first met death somewhere between the never-ending sands of the desert and the endless blue skies of earth. She remembered, and at times, still felt when her stomach had cramped in hunger and her throat had burned with thirst, her eyes had stung from sand and sun, how her skin had tore itself apart from the heat, and how her hate had raged within her chest toward the man who had left her in the desert all alone.

She knew when death was waiting for her; it was like she could almost smell it when it was near; could feel it wrap its arms around her and try and pull her down. The feeling was always the same. The struggle to win against death was always there; some battles more intense than others. There were many times she had almost lost and death had almost won.

Now, as Videl stood silently upon the dark planet with gray skies, gazing off into the foreign midst, Vegeta standing by her side, she could feel death's presence like an old memory rising to the forefront of her mind. She did not try to repress it but accepted its presence. It was simply another battle that would have to be won.

* * *

oOoOoOo

Gohan was beginning to understand how a good man did not necessarily equate to an honest one.

He watched as Hercule tossed a considerable sum of money into a beggar's bowl and continued walking as if he had done nothing at all, turning to answer a question Gohan had asked.

"I come here quite a bit. Call it a place to get away."

Gohan glanced around the overcrowded market, scrunching his nose against the smell. "It does not seem to be a place where one would find relaxation."

Hercule's blue eyes widened before he let out a booming laugh that rose above the sound of the busy market drawing a few stares. "No," he said, turning away to observe a vendor's stand, "I suppose not. But I find I never feel more alone than when I am surrounded by people."

Gohan adjusted the disguise covering his face, making sure it was still securely in place. It would not bode well to have his presence known. The tabloids would go nuts to see the Prince of the Ox Kingdom out and about in the markets of a country that was in the precarious political position of about to go to war.

Gohan was coming to find the man Hercule was in front of the public and the man he was in private were very different.

"I just find it odd," said Gohan in response to Hercule, "You could be anywhere in the world, doing anything you wanted. You have the power and resources to do so."

Hercule turned to look at the younger man, a slight smile upon his face. The red haired disguise he was wearing made it look slightly comical.

"So do you, if I remember correctly."

Gohan smiled at that. "It was your request that I might come with you today."

"And your acceptance. Besides," Hercule said as he handed Gohan an apple he had bought from one of the vendors, "they sell the best tasting fruit here."

Gohan took the apple from Hercule's hand before taking a bite of it. He looked up at the older man and smiled.

"Very good." Gohan agreed. "But not the best."

"Oh?" Hercule smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"There was a tree by my childhood home that my father and I would gather apples from every summer. And while these are good, they are hardly better."

"Tough to sell, I see. Well, you haven't tried the peaches."

Gohan frowned at the older man, unsure of what to make of him. "I was not raised to be rude, but I am not interested in peaches. Why did you really ask me to come with you today?"

Hercule furrowed his forehead, glancing briefly away from Gohan and through the crowd before looking back at him. By the time he looked back into the younger man's eyes he seemed to have decided something.

"You are far more perceptive than your advisors gave you credit for. Walk with me."

Gohan glanced around the crowd, wary of any extra ears that might hear what was about to be said before he followed after Hercule. Once he was in stride with the older man, he began to listen.

"You've been following the news between Ruse, Bulgarea, and Orange Kingdom?"

Gohan frowned at Hercule's question, but answered solemnly. "They are countries that are on the edge of war. A predicament in which the Ox Kingdom has no interest being involved in."

Hercule's bright eyes widened and then sharpened their gaze at the sound in the young man's voice. "Excellent political answer. But we are not in court, young king."

"An honest answer." Gohan replied easily. "Engaging in battle will simply result in a world war and I will not permit the Ox Kingdom to become involved."

"That is a very difficult statement protect."

"And I have every intention of doing so." Gohan asserted.

Hercule paused mid stride to turn and look at the young man. "Even when they initiate the attack against your country?"

"There is an answer for that too."

Hercule nodded before turning away and continuing to walk. "The officials of the Orange Kingdom are still demanding an explanation for the sudden disappearance of their fighter jets and for the miraculous appearance of their pilots on the their country's borders."

Gohan shrugged. "They were pilots flying in unfamiliar and protected air space above the Ox Kingdom. Who knows how they ended back up in their own country? Any thing could have happened to them."

Hercule glanced warily towards his companion. "So it would seem. The nations of Ruse and Bulgarea are also demanding an explanation as to the disappearance of their submarines and the strange appearance of entire submarine crews on their countries' borders as well. There are even rumors circulating that the Ox Kingdom is developing a weapon; a so called 'Golden Fighter'."

"I wouldn't know anything about that. I officially am out of any kind of politics."

"This isn't a matter of politics, Gohan. Your mother isn't an idiot. You need to be careful who you allow to see you. As low as you think the possibility is, it is very dangerous if somebody does recognize you during your… version of national defense."

"I am not overly concerned. " Gohan supplied, hiding his surprise on just how much Hercule knew.

"Perhaps you should be. In eight years you will regain your power over the throne and by that time all of those countries will undoubtedly be in the midst of war. The Ox Kingdom is one of the largest suppliers of oil in the world; critical, often times, in determining a country's victory or defeat. The only reason none of these countries have lashed back for the sudden disappearance of their jet or subs is that they need us. Countries will be vying for your favor. And whether the Ox Kingdom, your kingdom, is at war or not, it is very likely that that we will be involved whether directly or indirectly."

"You are starting to sound like my mother."

"Queen Chichi is a wise woman and a good queen. It would do you good to listen to her."

Gohan furrowed his forehead. Somehow Hercule had managed to remain the only advisor in the court that Chichi had not replaced from Gohan's brief stint as king. Something Hercule did not take for granted. He respected Chichi immensely. Gohan suspected his mother kept Hercule in her court simply for his influence as "The World's Savoir". A trait that made him nearly irreplaceable. Hercule was, much to Gohan's surprise, well-versed in the language of politics. Manipulation, it turned out, was one of Hercule's greatest strengths.

The older man continued. "Once the Orange Kingdom, Bulgarea, and Ruse all go to war, many more countries will follow. Ruse has aligned itself with the many of the nations in the south side of the planet. Orange Kingdom, to the best of our intelligence, has many connections with the North nations. Bulgarea is much the same. There are alliances between many of them and when one falls they all will."

"If you know what is going to happen," Gohan began slowly, "why can't you stop it?"

"People have been trying to stop it for the last seven years, but it has only continued to escalate. Cell's legacy is still at work."

Gohan had stopped walking to turn to look at Hercule. He barely noticed that they had left the busy city streets and were walking down a much more secluded and quiet part of the city.

"Cell is dead. He is nothing more than a memory."

"And memories are the most difficult thing to confront."

Gohan frowned. "I don't understand."

"I suppose you were too young to really notice it. But during Cell's…reign… there was a certain amount of chaos that came with it. Entire cities were wiped out during many of Cell's attacks. Many countries took advantage of that. Land that had nobody left to defend was taken over by neighboring countries. When everybody was brought back to life many of the countries did not want to give the land back up. And as simple as this problem might sound, it has done nothing more than escalate to the breaking point, which is coming very soon. This problem has had seven years to grow and it is too late to stop it. Don't think that anybody hasn't tried."

"Isn't there committees or something for things like this?"

Hercule shrugged. "Signing a paper and following through on your promise are two different things. A king can say he will give back all lands but words are not very binding. And there is nobody to enforce words written upon a treaty except for the countries that signed the paper."

"I have my own form of enforcement."

Gohan had defended his country when circumstance called for it and he would not hesitate to do so again.

Hercule shook his head. "Not only is that morally questionable, it is too late for that. In the beginning it may have been effective in making sure a king, ruler, president, whatever stayed true to their word, but things have gotten to the point where that will not work. Initially it was a battle over land, but it is becoming much more complicated. Conflicts spawn from conflict and there are too many to count. I don't pretend to understand politics as well as you or your mother. But I do understand this; there will be war. It is only a matter of time."

Gohan considered all that Hercule had told him. He breathed in deeply.

"What are you suggesting I do?"

"You're the hero, boy. Prepare yourself for anything. You never know when the battle might come to your doorstep."

* * *

oOoOoOo

Chichi ran her fingers across Goten's forehead, gazing at him as he slept. He shifted slightly but did not wake. Perhaps if she had known that he would look so much like Goku she would have never had him.

It had been a shock to see her son looking shyly up at her from behind Piccolo's cape. As he stepped out from behind his Sensei, her heart almost broke. It was like looking at a child version of her husband. It was even worse when suddenly he smiled at her; his grin large and innocent, taking up his entire face. She had started crying then, as the small boy rushed into her arms. She held him as tight as she could, unsure if her strength was meant to strangle him or love him.

Piccolo did not linger. He was gone before Chichi had a chance to look back up. She did not entirely mind. His presence could be unnerving. Goten, however, stayed.

As he gazed expectantly up at her, she did not know what to do with him. In another lifetime perhaps she would have been a housewife and a devoted mother. But she was queen. And, as she gazed down upon her son, she realized that he was a prince with no education outside of knowing how to fight.

Chichi had left her son then, lingering no longer than necessary to arrange his care for the next week, leaving him under the watch of her ladies-in-waiting.

As she watched him sleep, this was the first time in nearly three weeks that she had seen her son so close. She had seen him several times from a distance; a bright orange figure with wild hair racing down the hallways, his laughter reverberating off the walls as some mentor or nanny chased after him.

Gohan, when he was home (seeing her eldest son was becoming an increasingly rare occurrence), seemed to be the only one capable of keeping Goten still for more than ten minutes. He would often steal Goten away for the day, without anybody's permission or knowledge, and bring him back completely worn out and almost complacent.

"Mama?"

Chichi smiled down at her son. "Hello, sweetie."

Goten looked at his mother with tired eyes through the darkened room. "Did the sun not come up today?"

Chichi let out a soft laugh. "The sun is still sleeping, baby. Go back to sleep."

Goten shifted, letting out a low sigh. "Why aren't you sleeping then too?"

It was a fair question. But Chichi was not so inclined to answer it. It was nearly three in the morning and she had just gotten back from the Nation of Ruse nearly a half an hour before. She had been trying to negotiate peace treaties that had failed horribly. The meeting was exhausting and Chichi doubted she would be getting any sleep tonight because of it.

"I'm about to go to sleep."

Goten squinted at her. "Your face is still painted though."

She looked at her son with confusion before laughing once again, bringing her fingertips briefly to her face. Chichi had rarely worn make-up before she had entered the public eye. Now as queen, she found the benefits of manipulating her features extremely useful.

She leaned down to kiss Goten's forehead. "So it is. Go to sleep."

He nodded. "Are you going to be here tomorrow?"

Chichi stiffened. She knew her duties as queen and mother. She also knew that in this instance she would have to choose between the two. "I don't know, sweetie."  
Goten nodded, yawning, his drowsiness taking over his concern.

Chichi moved away from her son's bed. "Good night, Goten."

He gave mumbled sigh that Chichi could not decipher as she silently left his room.

* * *

oOoOoOo

"This is my son – Broly."

Videl glanced dispassionately up at the man before her, finding she could hold his gaze for no more than a moment before she had to look away. His eyes were penetrating. She found his gaze much too invasive.

Vegeta gave a grunt of acknowledgement but offered no other reaction to Paragus's introduction.

"Where is this so called Super Saiyan?"

Paragus blinked, surprised, before offering a gracious smile. "You're journey to my planet must have been a long one. Wouldn't you like something to eat first?"

"No."

The line of Paragus's mouth faltered but he quickly recovered.

"Well," Paragus began, "his power comes and goes. One second our scouters pick up an unbelievable power level, the next the power completely disappears. We can hardly keep track of his movements."

"Given that there are no ki sources on this planet I doubt that it keeping track of a power as large as a super saiyan should be especially difficult." Vegeta responded dryly.

Paragus merely laughed. "No ki sources indeed but the residents of this planet don't have any ki signature to speak of."

"No ki?"

Paragus nodded, seemly pleased to have caught some fraction of Vegeta's interest.

"No ki. Or at least not any ki that scouters can pick up."

"Where are all of the natives of this planet?" Vegeta asked without any apparent interest.

"My son and I have enslaved them. They don't seem strong, but they put up one hell of a fight. We finally managed to defeat them after extensive effort. The mineral resources on this planet are plentiful. We have killed the majority of the population already. There are about 2000 or so left. We keep the remaining natives to mine the resources. When they have outlived their purpose, we will kill the rest of them and move on to another planet."

Videl felt a vague sense of disgust.

Vegeta turned to leave. Videl acted in kind.

"Where are you going?" Paragus asked with a slight edge of panic in his voice.

"To find the Super Saiyan." Vegeta said before blasting off into the air.

* * *

oOoOoOo

She stood shivering and unsure as she stared at the front door of Yamcha's apartment. She could see the lights were on and could here the high pitch squeak of Puar's voice occasionally broken by the lower pitch of Yamacha's. Bulma sighed, gaining her courage and pushing down her shame as she walked up to the front step and knocked upon his door.

Even as the door opened, revealing a confused looking Yamacha, the dread did not drain from her stomach.

"Oh hey, Bulma," Yamacha greeted brightly, concern furrowing his forehead, "what brings you to these parts of the woods?"

Bulma smiled up at him, raising her finger to tap playfully at his nose. "Can't I drop by to see an old friend?"

Yamacha blinked. "Yeah, I suppose so." He appraised Bulma once more, taking note of what she was wearing. "Jeez Bulma, where is your jacket? It is freezing outside. Come in."

Bulma followed him into his apartment as Yamacha went to the kitchen to make Bulma some tea.

The apartment looked very much the same as the last time she had entered it nearly seven years ago. His baseball trophies adored the walls along with a very few select pieces of expensive art. It was still very much the bachelor pad she was use to seeing.

"It's been awhile." Yamacha spoke from the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting to see you around here."

"I was in the neighborhood." Bulma answered lamely. "Thought I would stop by and see you."

This was, of course, a lie. Yamacha lived far away from anything that would be in the area of Bulma's normal dealings. While he lived in a far from modest part of West City, it was not was not as expensive as the places Bulma frequented.

Yamacha appeared a moment later, carrying two cups of tea with a concerned look on his face. Yamacha was one of Bulma's oldest friends and knew her well enough to know when she was lying.

"You weren't in the neighborhood, Bulma. Why are you really here?"

Bulma flushed.

"Yes I w…"

"No, you weren't."

Yamacha set the tea down, looking seriously into Bulma's face.

The guilt that gripped Bulma's gut when she first stood at his front door was tightening even more while she stood in front of him.

It was not Bulma's nature to become flustered and unsure. She lowered her head and looked down to the ground like a small schoolgirl. She felt foolish but she was not about to stop herself from doing what she came to Yamacha's house to do. Once her mind was set on something, wrong or right, she would carry it out.

She felt the warmth and reassuring weight Yamacha's large hand rest upon her shoulder.

Bulma felt tears begin to run down her face as her entire body shook.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Despite herself, a choked sob ripped from Bulma's chest and before Yamacha could say or do anything else, Bulma launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.

Yamacha froze. His entire body tensed before he realized what was happening. Becoming aware, he tried to pry the blue haired woman off of him. His voice came out muffled with Bulma's lips against his mouth.

"Bulma, what are you doing?"

As he gently pushed her away she was still trying to kiss him.

"Bulma," he said more firmly, "you need to stop."

Yamacha was holding her back and was too strong for her to fight. She struggled fiercely for a moment before her entire body went limp almost falling to the floor. Yamacha caught her. Before she knew what she was doing she was leaning into Yamacha's chest crying. His arms wrapped around her body. She could feel the low vibration of chest as he spoke to Puar. She held onto him tighter and could smell his sweet musk. The one that reminded her of nights in the desert from a life that seemed so long ago.

Yamacha moved both of them over the couch and sat down.

Yamacha waited patiently for Bulma to collect herself. When the last of her tears had finally ceased, he spoke.

"What's going on?"

She hunched forward and turned looked away from him.

"Don't pull this on me, Bulma."

She let out a low shaky breath before raising her tear stained face to look at Yamacha.

"I'm sorry that I put you in a compromising situation, Yamacha."

Yamacha frowned. "It was not me who would be compromised by this."

Bulma lowered her gaze once more, ashamed.

Bulma Briefs was a proud woman. She controlled her emotions, she hid her feelings, and she did not, under any circumstances, burden her problems onto anybody else. For the first time in a long time, however, Bulma Briefs felt herself crack.

"I hate him!" She screeched suddenly. "I have never hated anybody more in my entire life!"

Suddenly she felt possessed and she was not about to stop the fever that had taken over her body.

"He left me alone. He left his son. He had my son taken away from me. He said he would be back. He fucking promised me! He hasn't come back! He is a lair! A cheat! I hate him!"

Bulma did not realize that she was standing and it took her a moment to register Yamacha's bewildered face looking up at her.

She was breathing heavily. Her fists clenched dangerously at her sides and she wanted nothing more than to destroy something.

Yamacha chanced a slow breath before speaking. "You don't hate him, Bulma."

Bulma opened her mouth to retort, but Yamacha cut her off.

"It's the people we love who hurt us the most. If you did not love him, you would not feel the way you do now."

Bulma's voice was caught as she looked desperately into Yamacha's face.

Yamacha gazed calmly back at her. "Go home to your son, Bulma. He needs you."

Bulma's face twisted. Such was the pain she could not stand to be where she was much longer. She nodded a silent thanks to Yamacha before leaving his house quickly.

* * *

OOoOoOo

Vegeta flew at a steady pace through the alien planet's atmosphere. He felt, though he did not acknowledge the feeling, at least not completely, a distant kind of heartbreak radiating from the direction of Earth. He glanced in the direction he knew Earth to be and could make out the star that he knew the planet to orbit. The bite mark at the base of his neck ached more than he was comfortable to admit, even to himself.

Vegeta focused on the planet he was on, blocking out all thoughts of Earth and what it contained. Looking down he could see that most of the alien planet's surface was scarred with ki attacks.

Vegeta had sincerely doubted that there was any Super Saiyan on the planet at all after hearing the blubbering fool Paragus talk. However, seeing the damage inflicted to the surface of the planet Vegeta knew that only the most powerful of beings could have made them. Paragus's base power was pathetic and his son… Vegeta sensed out Broly's ki and found it to be pathetically low. Lower than even the fool Paragus's ki.

Vegeta glanced at the girl. She was flying to his right, gazing down at the earth. Her bright blue eyes were very wide. It was a rare show of emotion and Vegeta wondering briefly what bothered her so much. Vegeta abandoned the thought once he got sight of the first mines he had yet seen on the planet's surface.

He flew lower to investigate. About 2 kilometers above the ground he was able to make out figures moving into and out of the mines. Vegeta floated closer.

The natives were humanoid in appearance. So much so it would have been easy to mistake them for earthlings.

The girl seemed have a similar line of thought, for she remarked, "They look like me."

"Are you able to get a ki reading on them?" Vegeta asked her.

She shook her head without looking at him. "No. It's almost like they are not there at all. It's… disorientating."

Vegeta let out a curt chuckle. "Now you know what it is like dealing with you."

She looked sharply over at him.

"But I have a ki signature." She said.

"Yes." Vegeta conceded. "But it is pathetically small."

"But I at least have one."

Vegeta began to fly down to the natives below. When he was about 50 meters above their heads, one of the miners caught sight of them and began to scream in terror at the approaching figures.

When Vegeta and Videl landed on a bluff overlooking the entire mining operation, the majority of the natives began to disappear into the mines. However, one man stayed. There was fear on his face but a kind of brave resolution in the lines of his mouth as he stared at them.

"Stay here." Vegeta ordered Videl. "I will speak with the man. Keep your eyes open for any possible attack."

Vegeta flew down from the outlook to land lightly in front of the man as Videl stood gazing towards the mines that now held the majority of the natives. The man watched Vegeta warily.

"You're not…" the man said in a language Vegeta knew.

"No." Vegeta supplied curtly, answering back in the man's tongue. "We are not your enslavers."

"Have you come to help us?"

"No."

"Have you come to kill us?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm looking for a golden haired warrior."

The man's eyes widened at this.

"Do you intend on fighting this warrior?"

"Yes."

"I do not think you can win against him. He has destroyed every defense my people could throw at him."

"So he exists then?"

The man nodded once more. "And he will kill you if he has half the chance."

"Not if I kill him first." Vegeta responded. "Where is he?"

"I do not know."

"How often does he come here?"

"Not often. Every twenty days or so."

"When was the last time he was here?"

"I would estimate around six days."

Vegeta let a low frustrated growl.

"If he is not here, who forces you to work."

The man nodded toward the mines. "We are monitored through cameras there. If we stop working, he comes."

Vegeta stared momentarily at the man before speaking. "Inform your people to cease all work. If they do not do so, I will personally kill each and every one of you."

The man opened his mouth to speak but Vegeta interrupted him.

"If you do not listen," he said, raising his hand, "I will start with you."

The man closed his mouth, nodded at Vegeta with wide eyes, and turned and began running toward the cave.

Vegeta then turned, flying up to the bluff were Videl had observed the exchange.

"Girl, help with the evacuation of the locals. Do it now and do it quickly.

Videl nodded before flying down to the mines.

* * *

oOoOoOo

Videl had never seen such misery. The people she helped move from the deepest parts of the caves, while sinewy and lean, were thin and horribly weak. And although she tried not to feel anything, her stomach twisted with sickness and sadness.

Many of the people were evacuating on their own but some simply could not. Even though she knew Vegeta would scoff if he knew of it, she began helping move these people out.

The people could not move as quickly as she could and she found herself picking people up and flying them out. There were mostly men, but in the smallest parts of the cave, children were working. Small and completely darkened to the color of the mine, their eyes shined brightly against their skin.

As she held the people in her arms, they would stare up at her, their eyes completely fixated on her face. The behavior, if she allowed herself time to thick of it, was completely unnerving.

* * *

**A/N: I'm back. Review.**


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